


Show Me Your Eyes

by stydiakisses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9996368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stydiakisses/pseuds/stydiakisses
Summary: Stiles Stilinski had been blind almost his whole life. He had not seen the sun long enough to be able to memorise how it looked, he'd never seen the colours of the autumn leaves up close or the colour of his new favourite pillow. Five months before the most important surgery of his life, he gets a new caretaker Lydia Martin. He despises the fact his father employed someone to take care of him and he despises Lydia. Or does he?





	1. Chapter 1

Her skin was like peach and her perfume like strawberry as she rushed across the street to her once favourite place. Her once favourite place was closed now, the light summer breeze moving the few already fallen leaves in front of its door and she stood there, admiring the blue colour of the walls that could be seen through the glass for what seemed to be the last time. The last time she drank latte macchiato at seven in the morning, wondering what was so fascinating about the colour blue was on Tuesday. The last time she laughed at her yellow clock that didn't match anything in the room was on Tuesday. The last time she sat in her dark sky chair was on Tuesday. She hated Tuesday.

Her work place wasn't a work place at all. It was home. It smelt like vanilla and cookies. It felt like hugs and forehead kisses.

And now she lost it.

Her dark sky chair was in her house, where it didn't belong. The yellow clock was in one of her boxes, where it fit and it wasn't supposed to. It never fit and that felt right. The walls, those blue walls she would wonder about, were nothing but emptiness. There was nothing to wonder about anymore. The latte macchiato in her hand was cold, she didn't take a sip.

For a moment, she just observed it. It would belong to someone else soon. She lost it. A look of pure disappointment was staring back at her. There on the window glass. It was herself. She disappointed and she was the one disappointed.

Maybe it was time. Maybe this was meant to happen. She'd been here too long. Maybe it was time.

Two long years working in Beacon Hills. Whole life living in Beacon Hills. It was time to leave. But, what if she was too scared of leaving home because she was afraid she wouldn't be able to find another? It's hard to leave home with the uncertainty of being able to feel the same somewhere else.

Maybe it was time. Maybe she was ready.

She gave up the thought of it, the thought of moving and leaving. Instead, she was ready to get her work place back. She couldn't pay for it, no. She'd lost it. Not enough clients, not much money. It costed five thousand. Five thousand seemed like nothing. Five thousand should be nothing for a lawyer. But this was Beacon Hills and five thousand was everything.

Lydia Martin needed a job. She knew completely how stubborn this thought was. Her mother wouldn't allow it in thousand years.

Her skin was like peach and her perfume like strawberry as she made her way to the Beacon Hills Job Centre, in order to save her once favourite place.

—

"I'll take anything!" Lydia was practically begging for Kira to find something. Well, which didn't include baking. Lydia was terrible at baking.

"You're so picky. I offered you a cupcake shop _twice_! And what about the hair dresser thing? You don't like that either!" the black haired friend rolled her eyes. Kira worked at the Beacon Hills Job Centre and was one of Lydia's best friends.

"Kira, I can't work as a hair dresser. I accidentally cut my hair when I was little. Four times. No good experience with hair, alright? And besides, it isn't enough. Kira, I need ten thousand to get my place back, before anyone else. It's the cheapest space on the market, everyone will go crazy. " Lydia said with a sigh, it made her sad. She desperately needed the money.

The friend inhaled sharply when her eyes had suddenly widened and she grinned. "I got something! Better hurry up, the interviews are today!"

"I swear, if it includes baking, I-"

"No, listen! _'Care and companionship for a blind person needed. Must have experience. Must be friendly._ ' And then, there's an address where to come today. Basically, all you have to do is be around this person and help him. It's basic things, no bottom wiping required. And it's great money. You still have time." Kira had said with a proud grin and looked at Lydia.

"But I've never taken care of anyone! Friendly? I'm not friendly. I just don't think.." she closed her eyes, in order to relax. Her insecurities overtook her thoughts and she deeply inhaled.

"Worth a shot, Lyds. I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I've ever met. What's taking care of a possible ten year old for you? You're a badass lawyer Lydia freaking Martin. And you can do this."

That was the thing about Kira. Kira knew how to say the right things in the right situations. Kira knew how to approach different situations with kindness and softness. Kira knew how to make everyone feel better about themselves. That was Kira.

"I'm a badass lawyer Lydia freaking Martin. And I can do this." Lydia repeated the encouraging words and picked up all the courage out of them.

She could do this.

*

One hour later, the strawberry blonde had found the address. In front of her stood an enormous house, the sun lightning the garden where the colourful flowers had grown. The gate was opened, Lydia wanting to explore every tiny bit, but she had to contain her desire. She was big on things like that. She loved exploring and mysteries, solving crimes and using her brain.

She rang the bell. _This was it_. She thought, as Kira's words spun around her head.

An older man opened the door and greeted her with a smile, once he's seen her. "You must be here for the job interview."

Lydia awkwardly nodded and followed him, just then noticing a brown smear on her light blue jeans. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit._

They entered a huge room, what happened to be the living room and both of them sat on the couch across from each other, Lydia crossing her legs to cover the embarrassing stain. She smiled, thinking she'd leave a friendly impression doing so. She had to be friendly.

"So, you are Lydia right?" the man let his eyes wander across his papers, as if making sure he gets the name right.

"Yes." Lydia continued smiling.

"I'm Mr Noah Stilinski. I'm here to interview you. Tell me about yourself, Miss Martin."

Lydia gulped and her heart was beating loudly, she could hear it. Her hands were shaky, just like her voice and she was afraid to speak. "Uh, well, I-" she abruptly cut herself off and took a deep breath.

"I graduated from, um, I went to law school.. And uh, my name's Lydia."

 _Dumbass, he knows that!_ Lydia sunk down her seat and didn't understand why she was so nervous. She was never so nervous.

"I have a dog named Prada and I like seeing the sunset."

At that point, Lydia was sure she wouldn't get the job. What even was she saying? It wasn't confident, it was personal, it wasn't impressive, it was shit. She knew that.

"How old are you?" Mr Stilinski was looking at his folder.

"I'm twenty six."

"So, have you had any experience at care giving?"

Lydia still had her legs crossed, from time to time being careful to cover the stain that bothered her more than anything. It took her one whole minute to answer the question, not knowing what to say. "Uh, n-not really. But I'm sure I can learn."

"Why'd you leave your previous job? It says here you're a lawyer."

"They closed my work place. I, uh, I want to get it back and for that, well. I need a job."

Mr Stilinski nodded, his face expressionless. "Why'd you choose to stay here? What are your plans, Miss Martin? "

Lydia blankly looked at him, unable to say anything. "Well, um. When I, hopefully, get my work space back, I'll continue working there.."

"Good and why should I hire you?" His expression was still blank, now looking at her.

"Uh.." Lydia began. There was absolutely no reason why he should hire her, she knew that. She was a lawyer, for God's sake. She could do greater things. Her mother was going to kill her.

"Well, I learn fast, I am stronger than I look and g-good at baking and I am very friendly, your wife would be my best friend. Or daughter..Or uh, whoever I'd be taking care of." She clenched her brows, not being confident about what she was saying.

"It's my son."Noah Stilinski lightly smiled and Lydia winced.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Your son, right. I'm very friendly." she lied again and fake smiled. Lydia knew she wasn't friendly.

"My son had been blind since he was a little kid. He's had a lot of surgeries but nothing helped, we're hoping the next one is it. At least that's what they told us. You should know, Miss Martin, if after that surgery he is able to see again, your help won't be needed and this is a permanent contract. You'd be working for five months. See, Stiles has had-"

"What the hell is a Stiles?" Lydia asked, cutting him off. "S-Sorry, I-"

Mr Stilinski had looked at her strangely, then laughed. "Stiles is my son. He likes to be called that way." She merely nodded, wondering that kind of name was that.

"Stiles has had some..psychological problems. We don't like to talk about that. But he needs to be observed at all times, he's a really stubborn kid and he might annoy the hell out of you. He needs a carer, someone who'd hang out with him and talk to him, since he's distanced himself from everyone. You'd help him with the basic things, like feeding and drinking and you should take care that he comes to no harm. Stiles needs someone with responsibility, someone nice and gentle. I'm busy with work, so is his best friend and everyone I know. We just need someone to take care of him."

"I understand." Lydia nodded, but felt stupid. She was so small, she felt like she couldn't do it. She had never had so much responsibility. Not even when her client Cora was about to lose her child on the court, Lydia felt nervous but fearless. Why wasn't she fearless now?

"Would you like the job?" When she heard it, she almost fainted.

"M-Me? The job? Me?" she put her hand to her chest and looked at Mr Stilinski disbelievingly.

"Can you start today?" the man smiled at the girl's reaction.

"Yes! Yes, sure!" Lydia smiled too and stood up after Mr Stilinski. He told her to follow him and they went upstairs, the stairs were white and beautiful and the hall huge and beige.

"You work every day from 7am to 8pm, everything you need for food is downstairs, but Stiles has a little fridge in his room as well. The medicine is in his bathroom, there's everything you should know on a paper I will give you later. " Lydia kept nodding and looked around. She saw some pictures with Mr Stilinski and a female person who seemed to be his wife. She wondered how Stiles looked. Was he ten? Although, Lydia didn't think so. Mr Stilinski seemed to be in his fifties.

They arrived at the end of the hall upstairs and there was only one room left. Lydia took a deep breath as Noah opened the door.

"Stiles, we have guests."

Lydia saw a grown man sitting on his bed, wearing a flannel shirt, his hair a bit messy. He had tiny moles all over his face and he was holding a book. "Who is it?" His tone was annoyed and he lifted his head.

Mr Stilinski smiled at Lydia, gesturing her to approach and introduce herself. She closed her eyes again, to loosen up a bit and made a few steps toward Stiles.

"I'm Lydia Martin. I'm going to be be helping you from now on." She grinned, looking down at Stiles, hoping he'd smile too. Instead, he sighed and looked in front of him, since he didn't know where she stood.

"Is this a joke? I'm blind, not dying." His voice was deep and sounded raspy. Lydia's heart sunk.

"Stiles. This generous woman is going to help you a bit, because Scott, Melissa, me, we're all busy. Be nice." Noah apologetically glanced at Lydia, she just smiled in response.

Lydia wasn't the one to be insecure about herself. She was confident at all times, in all situations, every day. Her style was always on point, her hair was always on point, ever since she found out about the word 'perfection', perfection is all Lydia wanted to be. But God, this day was horrible. She was nervous and anxious, her pants had a huge stain on them and her hair was half down, half up, it looked messy and terrible. However, Stiles couldn't see her, so it shouldn't matter much how she looked. From the moment he spoke, Lydia knew he hated her. She hated him too, but she had to be friendly. _Friendly._

Noah handed her a paper. "Lydia, on this paper is everything about Stiles' medicine and his needs. If you don't know what to do, just call me or Scott. His number is written there too."

"Of course, Mr Stilinski." Lydia took the paper and smiled. She wondered if Scott was his best friend. She had a lot of questions, but figured she should act intelligent and not ask anything. She didn't want Noah Stilinski to go. The air was already filled with awkwardness.

"Stiles, be nice. She wants to help you, not ruin your life." Noah said his last words and was gone the next minute.

_I am a badass lawyer Lydia freaking Martin. I can do this._

She kept repeating it but she didn't believe it. She was a scared little girl who wasn't able to let any words out.

"Are you still here?" Stiles voice echoed through her ears and she turned around to face him. He was still sitting on his bed, the same position as the one when she arrived.

"Yeah." She quietly let out.

"Lydia, was it? I find your presence very unnecessary, so you can kindly leave."

Stiles spoke in a rough tone, he was annoyed and tired, he didn't want anyone being around him and making him even more annoyed and tired. He didn't like people very much, regardless him not being around many. He sure as hell didn't like Lydia. He didn't even meet her and he knew he hated her. Stiles heard her exhale and knew she was standing in front of him now, ready to say something.

"But I just got here!" The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes at his attitude and she was already sick of it.

"Look, how about we introduce ourselves to each other and then, I can leave?" She smiled. She knew he couldn't see it but she did it anyway. She was being friendly. _I can do this._

Stiles rolled his eyes, lowering himself on the bed after. "Hi, I'm Stiles and I'm pissed off by everything." Which was true, Stiles really was angry all the time.

Nothing ever made him laugh or smile, he would always look like a grumpy cat. There wasn't really much that could be done, he knew it. He was blind.

"Oh come on, what about your favourite, uh-" Lydia paused. His favourite what? Had he even seen the colours? "Your favourite word?" She bit her lip and was glad she thought of something. She wanted to sit on his bed, but that would've been even more awkward.

"Eyes." Stiles responded within a second.

"Do you like books, what's your favourite?" She gained some confidence and was proud of herself, because Stiles didn't have the grumpy, rude expression on his face. He suddenly sat up and Lydia quickly reached out to help, but he was faster.

"I don't want to talk anymore. I want you to leave. You're annoying me, more than Darth Vader."

Lydia sighed sadly at his comment and chose to obey his decision. She didn't want to lose this job the day she's gotten it. She said nothing, just walked out.

It was going to be a long week...

—

Around half eight, Stiles was deep asleep. Lydia's been in the living room the whole day, except going upstairs to check on him every hour and give him medicine. He wasn't hungry and she didn't help him eat that day. It was all still awkward between them, Lydia not knowing how to approach him and Stiles avoiding talking to her in any way. Natalie had called Lydia more than twenty times and Lydia lied each time. She knew she had to tell her mother what she did that night. Who knew, maybe it'd even make her happy.

Lydia went to check on Stiles one last time before leaving and saw he uncovered himself, despite her putting the covers over him. She sighed and went in, walking quietly so she doesn't wake him up. She didn't know how could he sleep so early, she was usually awake until 11pm.

Lydia softly took the blanket and pulled it over to cover his chest, and he made a little movement, making himself comfortable. Stiles slowly opened his eyes and Lydia bit her lip and wanted to apologise for waking him up, but stayed quiet instead.

"Lydia? Is that you?" His voice cracked and he stared at the ceiling, then glanced around despite not being able to see. It was just human nature. He got not answer, because Lydia didn't want to give one, she knew he would be annoyed if she said something.

"Thank God she left." Stiles muttered and closed his eyes.

Lydia's lips parted and she stood up, then left the room. She stood in front of his door for few more minutes, staring blankly at the light green wall. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about it much. She wondered how it felt to be blind but she didn't have to because she was aware it was agonising.

Maybe that was why Stiles was so awful to her. He was always going to be awful to her. She already knew it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I've decided to post this fanfic here to, as it is on my wattpad :)) I hope new readers will like it. Thank you so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Annoying remarks and rude comments was all Stiles spoke whenever he would open his mouth and be in Lydia's presence. The whole week, she'd been trying to be as friendly as possible, as helpful as possible and as calm as possible, because damn, this guy needed to have his ass kicked. He was so fucking childish for a twenty six year old, Lydia wondered if he'd actually ever gone to a real school.

Her mother was astonished. For three days, she hasn't said a single word to her daughter, she didn't even look at the strawberry blonde. On Monday, Natalie Martin had given her only daughter a lesson. The two had talked for two hours, Natalie complaining and Lydia rolling her eyes at every word. The last thing she said was, 'It's my life', then gracefully walked out of the room. Lydia was well aware that her mother was disappointed. She could see it in her eyes and it hurt. She never thought she'd see that look.

First week was terrible. More terrible than she could ever imagine. Stiles and her made absolutely no progress, she would answer with sassy comebacks whenever he'd make mean comments. It wasn't going anywhere. He'd refuse her help, tell her she's useless, not try and communicate with her at all, and just simply show pure hatred. It came to point where Lydia would spend several minutes in the bathroom, trying to contain herself, either from crying or strangling him. In other words; Lydia couldn't stand Stiles.

She wanted to quit various times, her strength and mind completely shutting off because she couldn't take his attitude anymore. At times, she'd wondered how the hell did Scott handle him so well?

Scott was Stiles' best friend, just like she thought. His smile was angelic and heartfelt and he was the nicest person Lydia's met. He told her Stiles used to attend high school, but he went to the school for the blind first, where he learnt how to read and some other useful things.

Lydia now finished her first week at the Stilinskis and had one day off. She thanked God because there was no way she was going to accompany that bastard for one more second. She called Kira to come over, since the strawberry blonde desperately needed someone other than mother to talk to about jerk that was Stiles Stilinski.

"He hates me. I'm telling you, I can't stand it anymore. He keeps saying all this terrible stuff and I never did anything to him. I just can't figure him out." Lydia threw herself on her bed, the one that she's had since high school days.

Kira sat reading through some notes, smiling to herself after her best friend's words. "Wow. Something not even Lydia Martin can figure out. I give him props." The dark haired girl winked and Lydia rolled her eyes, staring at her boring, white ceiling.

She wished her life was boring and white. Boring and white was so simple and easy. Life wasn't.

Kira fell on the bed to Lydia's side and cracked a laugh. "Cheer up, bean. Second week should be better." She looked at Lydia who smiled back at her.

"He keeps calling me red head and it makes me want to strangle myself."

Kira rolled her eyes, when a perfect idea came into her mind. Her fingers started tickling Lydia all over her stomach and the room was soon filled with laughter and joy.

"If you don't succeed, laugh until you do."

Lydia simply rolled her eyes and smiled at her best friend. That was Kira. She knew how to make everyone feel better about themselves.

* * *

 

Lydia hated Tuesdays.  
It was Tuesday and she was back at the Stilinski household. It was 7 am and she was precise, like always. She entered the house and it was deadly quiet, from time to time the humming of the summer wind making her wince. It was almost the end of August, September colours already knocking on the doors of Beacon Hills.

Lydia left her coat and took off her shoes, then went upstairs, ready to face the possibly worst person she'd ever met. (Although not really, the judge on the court was worse.)

"Good morning!" Lydia grinned as she opened the wooden door.

"Oh, great. It's the red head." Stiles was still laying in bed.

"My hair is strawberry blonde, dumbass." Lydia went inside, glaring at him and rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, explain that to a blind man." He carefully lifted himself up and Lydia hurried to help, but he managed alone.

"I can take care of myself, red head. Just give me a stick and a dog and I'll be fine."

"Can a stick or a dog make you coffee? Help you down the stairs? Keep your annoying ass company?" She opened his closet and chose something for him to wear.

"Point taken." Stiles surrendered and nodded lightly. He, then, raised his finger. "Actually, a dog can keep comp-"

"Just shut up. How about you try put clothes and we see if you can do it alone?" She threw the jeans and the red shirt on him, then left the room.

Lydia stood behind the doors and pouted her lips. She shortly stared at the light green wall, the one she was now fully familiar with. _Three, two, one-_

"Lydia!" Stiles groaned and Lydia covered her mouth, trying to contain her giggle.

"Woof." She teased and entered the room again, seeing Stiles struggle with his shirt. He was half shirtless, his head was popping outside the short sleeve, where his arm belonged. Not the head.

"I still find your presence very unessential." Stiles puckered his lips and raised his arms up.

Lydia took the shirt off, being careful when trying to pull his head out of the sleeve, because it legitimately stuck. How did he even manage that? After she successfully did that, she could see him roll his eyes again. She knew he hated when she was the one having to help him put clothes. She hated it too. It happened only one time since she started working. Terribly awkward. Awkward silence. Weird atmosphere. _Awkward._

Lydia quickly helped him to put the shirt on, this time the right way. Stiles immediately pulled it down, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'll put the pants on myself, thanks. You can go." He suddenly spoke and waited for her to leave.

Lydia rushed outside, letting out a breath of relief. It was so awkward. Few minutes passed and he called her again.

"I need help with the- the zipper." He stood helpless like a lost boy, biting his lower lip. Lydia's heart smiled and she closed her eyes, the same smile escaping her lips, the one she swiftly covered, and approached Stiles.

"Woof, woof." She gulped as she crouched down enough to reach his zipper. _Awkward._

After she got that settled, Lydia asked him to wait until she makes the bed and cleans up a little, so they can go downstairs. Stiles, stubborn as he is, didn't listen to her and went to search for his stick.

"Have you forgotten the fact you can't see? You'll hurt yourself." The girl rolled her eyes, the beige coloured sheets now straight and the bed made.

"Keep dreaming, red head. I'm going to find-" _Clash._

Lydia jumped. Her eyes looked behind her and there was Stiles, his hand on his head, his eyes closed. "Ouch."  
She ran up to him, sighing in annoyance.

"Dumbass, what the hell are you doing? You're blind." She brushed her fingers across the corner of his forehead. At that point, Lydia was surprised he even allowed her to touch his face. Well, a little part of his face.

"Congratulations Sherlock. Can you just give me my stick, please?" He still had his eyes closed.

"Even with a stick, you can't go downstairs alone. Come on."

She placed her arm around his elbow and held it with another one. They moved slowly in sync through the long hallway and even slower down the stairs. She'd noticed how he tightly clung onto her, his warm hand covering hers.

Lydia helped him sit down and she went in the kitchen to make some coffee. The kitchen was huge. And white. And huge.

After the coffee was done(Caffe Latte was Stiles' favourite) , Lydia awkwardly sat down next to him, placing the cups on the table. Nothing was said for some moments, until Stiles finally spoke.

"What? Are you just gonna sit here? You're more boring than I thought."

The strawberry blonde gave him the I-want-to-slap-you look and continued glaring.

"Alright, listen. I know you don't like me- hate me, in the matter of fact, and I'd rather not be here, instead I'd help people who have a soul, but your generous father, who I, by the way, don't believe is your father, considering you're a dick, employed me and I need the money. Deal with it."

Stiles sat there, unable to form words or let any sound out of his mouth. Took him three minutes to respond.

"I can't see your face right now, but it's the most annoying thing I've ever seen!" His tone was raged, he didn't know why.

He thought maybe it was because someone finally confronted him. Or maybe it was because he thought she's the worst person he's ever met. (Excluding that one cashier at Walmart. Worst experience he's had.) Stiles despised Lydia. That was a fact.

She didn't say anything after his comeback. She didn't handle him his coffee either. He didn't ask for it either. She wouldn't have done it if he had asked. Lydia despised Stiles. That was a fact.

* * *

 

She walked out at the balcony and breathed in the cool air. Looking in front of her, she saw green gardens, flowers still blooming and the leaves the trees held still alive, not one has fallen down. In the distance was woods, the sun slowly sinking down in it.

Lydia had admired the sunset since as long as she could remember. The colours were always so different, the shades changing in the blink of an eye. The sky would have a unique colour, the one you don't see often in your life, the kind of colour that makes you experience a special feeling, the one that makes you feel glad you're alive and breathing and you're able to see the beauty of the sky when the sun sets with your eyes.

She could look into several galaxies within several pairs of eyes, but nothing would compare to the colour of the sky during the sunset. She could reach the stars touching someone's skin, but it wouldn't be near touching the colours of the sky. Sky was in no one's eyes, no one's touch and no one. Sky was sky. Untouchable and distant, yet right above her.

The moonlight was something else. It coloured the sky dark blue and its glow went the worlds beyond. Just like sunset colours, the moonlight wasn't to be found in anybody. Nobody had the light of the moon in their eyes. Nobody's hands felt warm enough like the moonlight did. Moonlight was moonlight. Only one in the entire universe.

Lydia craved for the sight of moonlight in someone's eyes. She craved for the touch of sunset colours on someone's skin. It didn't exist, but she wanted it.

"What are you doing?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. It was Stiles. He stood at the balcony doors, his stick in his hand.

"Watching the sunset." She took a sip of her coffee, not even taking a single look at the man behind her. She was still annoyed with him.

"Oh, right. I forgot you're totally boring. Just like the sunset.." He quietly whispered a, "Probably", but it was barely hearable.

"You would know. You can't even see it."

Stiles turned around, for a moment just standing there, thinking about what she said. Then, he slowly made his way to his bed and she continued staring at the view in front of her, her stomach full of guilt..

Lydia despised Stiles. That was a fact.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, vote, talk to me. I love talking to you.


	3. Chapter 3

It took her exactly sixteen minutes to get to work each day. Sixteen minutes drive, eleven feet walk and she was at the Stilinskis. It was two times longer than the way to her old work place. And she missed it.

Hell, Lydia missed her old life. Her old life started every day at six thirty am, she would take off her, either red or pink, socks she slept in and make her way to the bathroom. She'd get dressed and rush to get herself a latte macchiato, then walk to her office. Eight minutes walk, every day. Her car was rarely used, only when meeting up with Kira somewhere or having to go out of the town, which she was never glad about doing. It was simple.

It's been one week since Stiles had talked to her. One week since the guilt kept her wide awake that night, regretting she said something like that. Lydia was not friendly. It was killing her. All he would ever say would be a, 'Thanks' or 'You can go now'. When she'd start a conversation, about anything that came into her mind, he'd ignore it or tell her she can go. She messed up real bad, she knew it. None of her attempts to make it up worked and she really tried; her smiles would come up more often and she'd tell him random stories about her dog.

She brought him coffee and made the bed, then decided to put the situation to an end. Lydia didn't really know why did he take it personally, he'd been saying she is unnecessary and useless for weeks, but she said nothing about it. _Childish._

"Stiles, I was pissed off. You know that feeling? You're pissed off at all times, you should understand!" She exclaimed, staring at his book shelf, wondering why he had so many books if he couldn't see. She knew blind people often used audio books for reading and she knew that there were some books that the blind could read, the ones with the odd dots that symbolised the letters, that was why her curiosity was big as to why he had so many regular books.

"You can go now," was his response and it earned another Lydia Martin eye roll.

"You've been dragging this on for a week. I don't even know what the big deal is." She took one book and her fingers brushed across its cover. _All the Light We Cannot See_. Small smile uncovered itself on her lips, she liked this book and then a perfect idea came into her mind.

"How about I read to you?" The strawberry blonde grinned and sat next to him, his face was emotionless and he groaned a, "No."

"Oh come on, it'll be fun. I love reading and you have so many books. Does your father read to you or what?" Her eyes found their way to his side profile and damn, it was perfect.

"He did." Stiles answered in a quiet tone. "He doesn't anymore."

"Why not?"

"He's busy..I guess," before he said anything else, a look of realisation came across his face and he sighed in annoyance. "Why are you still here?"

"I want to read to you." Lydia opened the book and smiled.

"No, no. I have to be pissed off for at least two weeks. Go away." Stiles' arms roamed until they found her shoulders, then he lightly pushed her to stand up. Lydia's brows furrowed and she resisted, quickly placed the book on the bed, and started pushing him back.

"Admit it; you're bored without talking to me and being witty!"

"You think I'm witty?" Stiles stopped, his arms in the air.

"If you stop pushing me to stand up, yes. But otherwise, I think you're a childish idiot."

"Not witty, yeah right. How about you show me where your stomach is?" Stiles spoke and Lydia was confused. When asked why, he just said for no reason and it confused her even more, but she took his hands and moved them in the direction of her waist.

"No idea why you wanted to-"

And then, Lydia laughed. His fingers were playfully tickling her waist and she tried to remove them, but without victory, until she surrendered and made no more attempts because he was unstoppable.

"Stiles, stop!" She spoke through her laughs, then fell on the bed, giggling uncontrollably. She opened her eyes to see him grinning like an idiot, being slightly on top of her now.

"I am the wittiest of them all and I just tickled Lydia, the red head." He stopped and sat up, the mischievous grin not leaving his lips.

"T-That was unnecessary and doesn't change the fact you're an idiot." Lydia stuttered for an unknown reason as she sat up beside him and smiled.

Stiles puckered his lips, crossing his arms. "I'm hilarious."

"You're full of yourself." The book that was placed on the bed found itself in Lydia's hands again and she opened the first pages.

"Can I read now?" She looked over at Stiles who still had his arms crossed.

"I told you, I don't want you to read! Ever!" his voice was louder, his mood drastically changed and Lydia's smile faded, as she stood up and left the book on his nightstand.

"Fine. Call me if you need anything." she said, heading out.

Lydia stood behind the thin wall, different thoughts wandering through her head, questions and sentences she didn't dare to say. She'd learnt reading was a sensitive topic and that was enough to not bring it up. But she was Lydia.

And Lydia was always designated to solve things.

* * *

 

Lydia left earlier than usual and felt crooked about it, because Mr Stilinski wasn't home yet and Stiles was alone. On the other hand, she felt better too; it was impossible to communicate with Stiles. He seemed angrier than he already was, but she could swear she felt the sorrow feeling that was roaming in the air around him.

She hurried home, all she wanted was to lay in her bed and sleep and not think about Stiles, or his rage towards reading, or anything. But she did.

She thought about her first week. He didn't even take a single look at her after they've met. Not that he could see her, but he barely said a word as well. He ignored her and kept turning her down. The fifth day was when they exchanged more than ten words. It was the day when he'd learned about her hair colour.

He was confusing, and awkward, and weird, and rude. She had no clue how did they come to that subject, the one about her hair, nor she knew why'd he care about the colour of her hair, if he couldn't even see it. It made no sense, just like himself.

A lot of things were strange about Stiles, but also a mystery she found too dangerous to explore. He seemed to cover the truth of his feelings(and his soul in that matter) with a facade of sarcasm and rudeness.

Lydia didn't even know that much about Stiles. All she was familiar with was that his favourite word is 'Eyes', his favourite movie is 'Star Wars', his favourite coffee is a Caffe Latte, he had a Han Solo bed sheet, his eyes were brown and his side profile looked nice. His past was unknown.

Then, Lydia found herself wondering why was she even thinking about Stiles when she told herself not to.

She thought about her work place. The payment she was getting was more than enough, it was promising and Lydia was ready to get her work place back and to be back doing what she's good at. Being a lawyer.

Her heart was excited to finish the five months of the hell job she had to do and to never see Stiles' grumpy expression again.

* * *

 

Lydia entered his room, to bring him breakfast and he refused it, saying he wasn't hungry and that she could leave. Only 9 am and he already annoyed her. After that, she didn't come back into his room for two hours, when she decided to ask him for a walk in the garden, since they've never done it and she was dying out of boredom. He continued denying her, until she became too tiresome.

They sat on the bench in the garden, colourful flowers accompanying them and their silhouettes colliding.

"Please, please stop being angry with me. You don't want me to come tickle you and make you forgive me." Lydia's voice imitated a child's one and God knows how much innocent she tried to sound, when in reality, the madness was burning inside of her.

"Oh come on, Stiles. I'm the only friend you have. Your dad's working the whole day in his company, Scott's out of town, Melissa is in hospital, and you have no other friends that I know of. Which leads us to: Me. I'm fun and chatty, you just won't admit it."

"That's where you're wrong. I have plenty of friends. I even had a girlfriend once."

Lydia tried her best not to laugh, after hearing what she heard. Although, she was glad he finally said something normal to her. "Liar. You're too mean to have friends."

"Her name was Cora. I didn't see how she looked like, but she was hot." Stiles let a smirk escape his lips, a memory flashing back into his mind.

"You went to school with her? Where is she now?"

"She left me."

The smile that was on Lydia's face turned into a straight line and she bit her lip. She left me. Those were the words Lydia never wanted to speak out in her whole life.

"I'm sorry." She quietly said and was unsure of how to approach him and make him feel better about it.

"Yeah, yeah, you feel bad now. Don't. Who would wanna date a blind man?" He jokingly said, a small chuckle following it.

"W-Well, I don't think a person's appearance matters when it comes to love. It's all about flaws and personality." And then, it was the cliché side of Lydia. The side that she absolutely despised, but the side that helped her in a lot of situations.

"Does this mean you think I'm unattractive?" Stiles raised his eyebrows and turned his look to her.

"What? No, I-"

"So, you think I'm attractive?" Once again, the familiar smirk took over his lips, but all that took over Lydia was uncertainty.

"Stop this!" She stood up and helped him stand up, as well.

"I didn't do anything." Stiles' proudly held the smirk on his face, as he slowly walked with her and they made their way back to the house. She avoided any chance of having to look at him, feeling awkward and insecure and lost.

Truth was, Lydia didn't even know if she found him attractive. She never gave it a thought and she never paid attention to that. Her mind was occupied with doing things right and doing them perfectly. Not with how Stiles looked.

Upstairs in his room, Lydia turned on the TV and decided this time, she'd be in his room, not alone downstairs, in the huge beige living room that felt boring and smelled boring.

"What are you doing?" Stiles suddenly spoke, as he made himself comfortable, laying on the bed.

"I'm keeping you company." Lydia shrugged, then sat at the other side of his huge bed, leaning onto the soft, white pillows.

"I'm still mad at you." He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, secretly forgetting it and not being mad anymore.

"Yeah, no. You forgot about that."

He was surprised she could read him _that_ well and almost admitted she was right, but teasing was more fun. "Dream on, red head."

"Can I just know why are you calling me like that?" Lydia asked, going through channels and finding nothing that was on TV interesting.

"'Strawberry blonde' is too long for me to say. 'Red head' is easier. Logic."

Lydia let out a laugh, and he giggled. "That is the stupidest reason I've ever heard."

"Stiles." She turned the TV off and her heart raced.

"What now?"

"Can I read to you?" She could see he was about to say something, which was most likely going to be in a shrilling tone, so she cut him off. "You don't have to tell me why you don't like it, but I really wanna. Just this time." She lied. The whole reason she was doing it was because she wanted to know why didn't he like it.

"Fine." Stiles unwillingly agreed, he wanted to get it over with..

She smiled and hurried up to get one book from the shelf. _The Perks Of Being A Wallflower._ Lydia read that one too.

"Okay, I got a book. Make yourself at home." She teasingly said at what he rolled his eyes and inhaled, staying in his previous position. Lydia went to the other side of the bed, where she was already sitting, then opened the book and excitedly read the title and the author.

Her voice was calm, but eager and nostalgia took over him. She read slowly and paused at the right places, from time to time looking over at him and having a wide smile on her face.

And it was that. Stiles heard nothing but Lydia's voice and Lydia felt nothing but satisfaction.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ily all, I hope you liked this :)


	4. Chapter 4

When he was just a few months old, he saw the face of his father, his father first. He was a little baby, crying and screaming incoherent language as his father smiled at him, trying to calm him down. That was when little Stiles could see. His sight was black and white, it had no colours, no emotions, but he could see his father's smile and his father's eyes and his father. The cries had stopped.

When he was three, he woke up to the endless darkness. Everything was gone. There was no colour anymore. There was no white, just black. There was nothing. He was three, crying and screaming, 'Dad' as his father woke up, trying to calm him down. His mom woke up too and all she was able to do was nothing. That was when little Stiles couldn't see anymore. His sight was black, dark black, nothing. He couldn't see his father anymore. It was when he lost his sight, he lost his father too. The cries never stopped.

When he was four, he met Scott McCall. He played with the sand, enjoying its softness in his tiny hands, so confused and so lost as to how does it look like. He felt a presence, his mother was looking over him but it wasn't her presence he felt. There was someone there, playing with the sand, too.

_"Hi. I'm Scott." he heard a small voice, but didn't know where it came from._

_"M-M-M-M-Mi- Stiles," he quietly said, his cheeks blushing._

_"What kind of name is that? Do you like my sand castle? I made it all by myself!" The little boy said enthusiastically and Stiles already felt like he was going to cry, because he really wanted to see a sand castle. He's never seen one before._

_So, instead of crying, Stiles peed himself hence the embarrassment he didn't know what a sand castle looked like. The liquid went through his pants and on Scott's castle, which made Scott's mouth drop._

_"Hey! You just peed on my sand castle!"_

When he was eight, he began playing a game with his mother. It was practice and studying. Learning to use his eyes by focusing on the sounds. It was simple; Claudia Stilinski would make any sound in any room and Stiles' eyes would look at the direction it came from. She taught him how to see with his ears.

When he was ten, he lost his mother. She died from frontotemporal dementia. He'd never talked to anyone about his mother. Not Scott. Not Melissa. Not even his dad. Claudia awoke the sorrow in his soul he could never erase. And thoughts of her ached.

When he was fourteen, Stiles finished his four years of school for the blind with a diploma and was the top student of his class. All he ever wanted to do was be a good son after his mom died. That was the challenge and the prize was making his father proud. And he succeeded.

Sixteen year old Stiles attended high school just like any other normal kid. It felt good, it felt ordinary and ordinary was what he always wanted to be. His life consisted of constant eye surgeries that didn't help him and of countless nights spent awoken, craving for sights he could never enjoy.

Stiles thought he experienced love when he met Cora Hale. She was a combination of blossom and hurricane, indifference, but kindness. He loved that and it seemed as though Cora loved him, too. She might have. She might do. She _might_. Not that he knows. She left without a trace the night he was going to propose, two days after his surgery she didn't wait for to end. Maybe she knew he was going to ask her the question every person dreams of being asked and fear crept into her mind or maybe she just didn't love him enough to stay with him. Maybe she didn't love him.

He loved mysteries. The feeling of being right after you solved something, whether it's a crossword or a murder case(one of his favourite TV shows was 'Bones'). The fascination that'd take over and the determination he'd dedicate to just to solve something that might just be impossible. His eyes would light up even though he doesn't know. It was something he had always loved doing. Solving things. It takes him to a whole different universe, where he _can_ see, where he's the one who always figures it out, and it feels good. It feels good to escape. He wanted to go to law enforcement, which he knew was irrational. He could _never_ be anything. Just Stiles.

Not that he lacked confidence or affection from the people that were there his whole life, all Stiles wanted was to be something to someone. Not just a son or a brother or a patient, something more than that. Something different.

"Hey, buddy." Scott entered Stiles' room to see his best friend sitting on the bed, his mind elsewhere.

"Scott? You're back?" Stiles let out a laugh and his best friend hugged him.

"Not for long. Why are you here alone? Where's my mom?"

"She's with my dad. Somewhere. You're not the only one who's got the weekend free. Could my dad get more pretentious? He's dragging this for so long. Both of them took days off to spend time together."

"And left you alone?" Scott raised his eyebrows, "What even are they doing?" He let that thought wander off, because he did not want to think about that.

"Where's Lydia?" He winked and patted Stiles' back.

" _Ugh._ She just left. I can't stand her. She's so unnecessary, I'd rather be alone.." Stiles crossed his arms while rolling his eyes, being able to feel Scott's smirk. He knew him that well.

"Mhm." was all Scott let out and Stiles just continued.

"And there's this thing she does- She likes the sunset and every day at 6 pm, she's sitting at the balcony. I don't even- You know, she never obeyed me without complaining. I mean, I could've fired her about ten times-"

"Then, why didn't you?"

Scott's words left Stiles thinking the rest of the day. He'd tried to find the actual answer and for the first time, Stiles had no answer.

It was like another mystery. A girl whose name filled him up with irritation, her voice was a melody he didn't want to listen to, her mind was something he could not understand and her, well, she was.. Not worth solving.

Stiles couldn't quite figure Lydia Martin out. There was something about her that made her stand out. Who knew, maybe it was her name, her voice or her mind. Maybe merely her. The way she was. The way her stubbornness _might_ have intrigued him. Not just that; she was that boring that was interesting.

Why didn't he fire her?

* * *

 

It was 3 am and she couldn't force her eyes to close. She could still feel the tears in them, it hurt not letting them out. She had to be strong, not allow herself to cry and she had to be an adult, know how to solve the problem.

No one asked her if she wanted to grow up. At one point, she did. We all want it. The feeling of being old enough to watch that movie your uncle used to say is too scary for you. Then you find out the movie is not scary at all, but you made it. You are old enough to watch it. The feeling of going into the mall with your friends the first time, alone, with no mom to hold your tiny hand, that's not so tiny anymore. But you like it, you're with your friends and there is no mom to tell you what you're allowed to get. It goes fast.

First time she met her best friend was when she was ten. Her life before that didn't exist. They say life without a best friend is not a life and Lydia Martin knew what it meant when she met hers. They were soulmates in a platonic universe, meant to be best friends, Lydia's heart felt it. She couldn't live without her.

First time she went on a date was with fifteen. He _even_ had a car and she bought a brand new dress, the pink matching her lips. She danced in her room until late night, maybe even until it ended. She was old enough to go on a date, with a boy.

The boy who kissed her, the same night, in his car. It was flawless, really something, something she didn't want to end. Something she regretted being so evanescent, but she liked it anyway. First kiss.

The boy who stole her first kiss, stole her heart too. She was old enough to experience heartbreak for the first time. She could feel it like it was glass shattering. It hurt, God it hurt. He broke her, the boy that was the reason she danced until the night ended. The boy she tried for. The boy who didn't love her the way she loved him. The boy who _abused_ her soul with words, but she loved him.

Lydia grew up. It went fast. Her first date, first kiss, first heartbreak and first depression. First loss, second loss, the most painful one, first regrets, first time.. First. Was there more things she could experience the first time? No, because Lydia grew up.

Once you grow up, you want to be little again. You miss those times when you were curios if unicorns are real or not, all those times you made your dad play the superhero, when in fact he was one, you just didn't know it yet. The times you didn't worry about anything, just how Patrick the Star was always so dumb. The times you played with your fake Barbie phone, until you were old enough to have a brand new Samsung.

At this point, Lydia would give everything to have it back. She'd wanted those innocent thoughts, the mindless dreams and the impossible wishes back.

Now it was a mess, an enormous mess.

_"Sweetie, something happened." Natalie was sitting in the kitchen, as Lydia came back from work, her voice trembling and fragile._

_Lydia immediately filed up with worry, and sat next to her mom. "What? What's wrong?"_

_"We can lose our house. I couldn't afford to pay these last months, but I didn't say anything, because I didn't want to upset you. You've had a lot to deal with."_

_Lydia's heart sunk. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She couldn't lose her house, her home, not her home. She'd grown up behind these walls, her childhood, her memories, it was all in her house. Tears formed in her eyes, and she had not let them in front of her mom. First time she didn't, because she'd only have the courage to cry in front of her mom. Not now, not this time._

_"It's okay." She said the words that made her body more sorrow each time she'd speak them out. It was not okay. It would never be._

_"I'll figure it out, mom. We're not losing this house, I promise."_

Lydia grew up, too fast.

* * *

 

Making her way to her favourite café in order to talk to Kira, just like they do every Saturday afternoon, Lydia stumbled about three times, still being shaken about her conversation with mom. It was fresh outside, the normal autumn day. It was normal and it was boring. She hated that.

All Lydia wanted was something special. Her life was just like any other and as much as she loved long nights of writing arguments, searching for evidence and solving things, she wanted extraordinary events too.

Apart from possibly losing everything.

As she saw the face of Kira, Lydia smiled and instantly hugged her best friend. "How's my favourite human?" She asked, the two of them taking seats at their usual spot.

"Sad, angry. Lia left the town today. I was with her only 48 hours." Kira made a grumpy face.

'Lia' was short for 'Malia' and Malia was Kira's girlfriend. Lydia met her few years ago, she was often out of Beacon Hills, living and working in New York. But Beacon Hills was her hometown and she'd visit Kira every now and then or Kira would visit her, which Lydia thought was absolutely adorable.

"Kye, cheer up. You can always call her and Skype with her or something." At least Kira could do that with the person she loves. Lydia's person was gone, not even a phone call or Skyping was possible..

"How's with Stiles?" And there it was. The subject she always tried to avoid.

" _Ugh._ He's still the same spoilt little brat as he was the day I met him. No progress. Change the topic." Lydia sighed in annoyance and Kira just giggled.

"Don't do that. I could've quitted about ten times."

"Yet you're still there." Kira winked and Lydia groaned, although Kira's words made her wonder..

"Are you okay? You look like you didn't sleep the whole night."

Lydia would be lying if she said Kira didn't know her as well as Lydia knew Kira. She'd notice everything, she'd know when there was a problem and she'd listen. That was Kira.

"I might have went a bit late to bed, but I'm fine."

First time Lydia lied to Kira was when she lost Kira's lipstick. She felt guilty and decided to tell the truth after two days, knowing Kira would be mad, but it would be okay because Lydia deserved it. Kira wasn't mad, but Lydia swore she'd never lie to her again.

Now she did.

* * *

 

Seeing his face again sent rage in her veins. Hearing his voice again made her wonder how did he have the courage to talk to her again. Again, after leaving her without a goodbye, after not apologising for anything he's done. After making her go through _hell._

"What are you doing here?" Lydia's mouth was a clear O, and her heart stopped.

"Visiting. Didn't think I'd see you here, but just makes it better." Jackson Whittemore gave her the same smile he did when he picked her up on her first date.

In other words, in front of her stood the first boy who broke her.

She awkwardly smiled, feeling uncomfortable and sick. "That's nice, Jackson. I guess I'll.. See you around."

Lydia prayed not. She didn't ever want to see his selfish face again. All the haunting memories came back. Everything she wanted to forget about him, about them. It was all back.

"Wait, babe. Let's have a coffee together. I missed you." He smiled once again as he took her arm. "I'll pay."

_Don't touch me._ Lydia wanted to let out. How dare he?

"Alright." She fake smiled and followed him to a table. If she got it over with now, she wouldn't have to deal with it later.

"Two double expressos." Jackson told the waiter and then, looked at Lydia. She didn't get to order for herself, but that was Jackson. He had to be in control. Dick.

"What brings you here, Lydia?"

"I live here." The strawberry blonde proudly smiled.

"You stayed in Beacon Hills?" Jackson laughed and all Lydia could did was wonder what was so funny.

"Yeah, I'm with my mom. What are you up to?" She crossed her arms, being more annoyed by each second.

"As I said; I am visiting. But now that I see you, we could arrange a date. You're single, I'm single. I missed you." Jackson's fingers were eager to intertwine themselves with her own.

Lydia felt her knees shaking, and all she wanted to do was run away, as fast as she can.

Adulthood. Something we so desperately want for most of our life, thinking it's freedom and _fun._ Once we get it, once we realise it's far from fun, we want out.

Impossibility. Something that could never happen, no matter how much we want it. It is not possible, never will be, and we ought to give up on trying.

"Who says I'm single?" Lydia blurted out, her eyebrows clutching after saying that.

_What?_

"What?" He voiced her thought and quickly distanced his hands from hers.

"I'm taken, Jackson. Your date offer is really sweet, but I have someone." Lydia lied, in hope he'd leave her alone.

Lydia wasn't friendly. Screw that. If she could've, she'd have punched the Whittemore boy the minute she'd seen him. Friendly got you nowhere. She knew she should've straight up told him to leave her alone. But somehow.. This appeared to be more interesting. And she liked it.

"Who is this lucky person?" A smirk showed up on Jackson's face and the strawberry blonde chuckled, then was at loss of words because now she had to think of someone.

Lydia didn't have many men in her life. She didn't quite need any, if you asked her. Maybe she could say it's a girl and lie it's Kira. Too bad, Kira already had a girlfriend. She could say it's the pizza delivery guy, his name was Boyd and he would always deliver her pizza. But she didn't know him. She could make up any name, any story, any _thing_ , but then-

"Stiles."

Lydia didn't know if it was _Lydia_ who just said what she just said. She said she was dating Stiles, well, made up, but, out of all the people and all the names; she said Stiles. The person she hated, probably more than the man sitting in front of her, the person she could never, ever, ever imagine being with. Great, because, now she was. In Jackson's world.

"Funniest name I've heard," Jackson started laughing, "I gotta meet him one day."

"Mhm." Lydia muttered, her heart still in shock and her mouth unable to speak.

Oh what hell has she gotten herself into.

* * *

 

It was Monday and frankly, Lydia was glad. The Saturday was still in her head, Friday too. Might have been the worst weekend of her life. She just wanted to forget it for just a moment. She couldn't.

And now she had to deal with Stiles.

Everything in her life had somehow seemed to start falling apart, her strength being first. She was tired of _only_ everything. Now that she could lose her home, she thought about leaving to New York. But then again, where would her mother go? Natalie didn't want to leave, Lydia knew it and Lydia couldn't leave her. She couldn't bear with that. Truth be told; Lydia was scared.

"Miss me?" Stiles said in a hoarse, sarcastic tone.

"Not up for your wittiness today, Stiles." Lydia sighed, while putting the coffee on the nightstand.

A confused expression overcame Stiles, together with an emotion of curiosity and he wore it all day. Lydia was quiet the whole day, saying few words now and there and he could sense it was a bad day. Countless times has he opened his mouth to ask her, but fear to upset her seemed to overtake him and he had no idea why. She never really acted like that, sure there were bad days, but she'd annoy him on those, or made clear she's angry and talk and talk and talk. Now she was quiet.

Around 6 pm, Stiles walked out at the balcony, Lydia falling in astonishment before helping him sit. He never did that. She could feel his breaths, they were loud and he was looking in front of him, despite not being able to see the magic that was about to happen. Sun was about to fall asleep, the moment Lydia was in love with and would forever be.

"You've been quiet today." Stiles said.

"It's not my day."

"Are you okay?" He dared to ask, hoping he didn't feel that slight bit of care that was in him. _Hoping._

"A pizza would be nice, but I'll manage."

Stiles held back a laugh, then said, "There's this guy Boyd, he's the fastest in delivering pizzas. One time, I managed to open the door to him and I asked him for a discount because I'm blind but all he said is that I should piss off. So much respect for the blind." Stiles rambled and all Lydia did was stare at him, trying not to giggle.

"We once chatted and he told me I get a discount because I'm pretty." Lydia remembered the moment, and a laugh escaped her lips.

"From now on, you open the door for me."

Just for a moment, Stiles knew why he didn't fire her. And just for a moment, Lydia forgot about the enormous mess adulthood is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me feedback on my writing, thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

Lydia had a deep part in her, that would often allow her to think about things she would never. She neglected it. It was deadly. The emotions that would uncover themselves in it were emotions Lydia didn't want to feel. The thoughts that flew through it were thoughts she'd deny having. But it was a part of her. That depth of her brain, her body, her heart. It was intimidating, and Lydia would shut it down. But then again, she couldn't shut it down forever. It was a part of her. It was her.

The morning sky was charismatic.

It was fresh outside, small glimpses of the sun shining through Stiles' dark curtains and Lydia came earlier that day. He was still sleeping, and she didn't want to wake him, until 1 pm when it _really_ was the time he should wake up.

He got up and usually, he wouldn't need her help finding his way to the bathroom. He'd use his stick, but that morning, she noticed he had absolutely no equilibrium and almost fell to the floor. She took his hand, and within a split second, a vague current overcame her, she almost didn't feel it at all, but she did.

Lydia ignored it, but the deep part of her knew she never felt that before. She simply chose to turn the deep part of her down. It never brought her luck anyways. Just _forbidden_ thoughts...

His hand was trembling, she noticed, and he was extremely cold, his face had no colour and it was as if he hadn't slept at all. He's probably just sick, she thought, but her depth felt something else. She ignored it, again.

"Stiles, are you okay?" She asked, tranquil.

"No need to worry, red head. Just a little tired." He answered in a raspy voice, and he didn't want to admit, but thinking of Lydia worrying about him made him _kind of_ glad.

She stood by him and watched him wash his face; he did it almost too carefully, and her heart felt an ache.

_He might never see his own face._

That shouldn't have hurt her at all, but for the first time, Lydia felt some sort of sympathy for Stiles. It was ephemeral, but poignant and she wanted to feel it again. That scared her, because who would ever want to feel sympathy for someone as inconsiderate as Stiles? However, it wasn't that sort of sympathy she'd felt before, if the sorts of sympathy actually existed.

She handed him a towel and he mumbled a, 'Thanks'. His eyes were tired and his legs were almost too weak to continue keeping him standing. Lydia's never seen Stiles as helpless as he was that morning. Something was _really_ wrong, because she knew Stiles would never let her see the vulnerability she knew he had to deal with.

After that, he didn't say much. She didn't either. He only told her he was feeling like eating pancakes, and given the fact Lydia cannot cook, or bake, or make about anything that has to do with food, she told him she'd leave for a few minutes to get them. If someone told her she'd ever consider buying pancakes for Stiles Stilinski, Lydia would laugh at their face. Besides, it wasn't _just_ for Stiles. She wanted to eat them too, so right, that didn't mean she cared about his wishes.

Delicate smell of chocolate pancakes flowing around her, Lydia hurried back to the Stilinski household. She'd seen the black BMW Noah Stilinski owned parked in the huge garage and that confused her, because he shouldn't have been home at the hour.

Lydia quickly made her way upstairs and down the hall to the last room, Stiles' room. She heard different voices, which meant Stiles wasn't alone, and yet again she was confused, but inquisitive. So she opened the door and her eyes landed on Stiles first, who was sitting on his bed, just like she left him. There was another tall man, and there was Mr Stilinski, smiling at her. The smell of the pancakes soon filled up the room, and Lydia managed a small smile that came across as a frown.

"Ah, Miss Martin. This is Isaac. He comes once a month to check everything, so we don't have to leave for Philadelphia. He usually comes when you're not here, but.. Isaac, this is Lydia." Mr Stilinski smiled at Lydia and she gave a warm smile to Isaac. Isaac's hair was dirty blonde and it reminded her of pancakes, which was unusual, considering the fact she held pancakes for her and Stiles in her hands. And now comes this guy with the pancakes looking hair. Lydia was amused.

"Hi", Isaac smiled back and awkwardly waved.

"Hi", Lydia returned with a wave, as well, for no particular reason but feeling like it was polite, and he looked cute enough for her not to.

Stiles groaned. "Are we done here?"

The strawberry blonde wasn't sure if he meant Isaac's and hers little greeting, or Isaac's and his appointment, however, yet again, the deep part of her wished she and Isaac was the reason.

"Yeah, yeah. You're all good. Nothing changed. Same ol' jerk like always." The dirty blonde rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up, and Lydia let out a chuckle, as well did Noah.

Stiles rolled his eyes, a small flame arising, even though he was used to Isaac's remarks.

"I'll see you around, Lydia", Isaac gave her one last wink, as he followed Mr Stilinski out and she bit her lip.

"Yeah, definitely."

Lydia then looked at Stiles who had his arms crossed and his expression irritated as if he'd seen what just happened happen. "What?"

"What 'what'?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lydia asked, filling up with annoyance.

"Looking at you like what?"

"Like you've been dying to ask me something."

Stiles sighed. He did want to ask her something. "Maybe my face just, like, has a naturally interrogatory expression."

"Well, your interrogatory expression is getting on my nerves." Lydia said with irritation.

Stiles let out a faint laugh. "Then, I shall wear it at all times." He smirked and she shot yet another glare at him, leaving his room to get them their coffee, which they'd usually drink at 2 pm.

She stopped at the last stair, hearing Isaac and Mr Stilinski talk, and she didn't want to interrupt, so she turned around and was ready to go back.

"He didn't try it again, did he?" Isaac's voice caught her attention, and curiosity. She slowly paced to the kitchen door that was slightly opened.

"Thank God no. Since September, nothing." Noah Stilinski responded, and Lydia felt impatience.

"But I'm afraid he took too many pills last night when Lydia left. Melissa told me he was freezing cold this morning.."

Lydia's breathing suddenly turned unsteady, the moment she heard, 'When Lydia left', which meant she was guilty of Stiles doing _something_ he was not supposed to do.

"Well, that doesn't sound good. If he attempts suicide again, you'll need to get professional help, Mr Stilinski. I don't want anything happening to him." Isaac sympathetically said.

"Lydia's with him. I believe she's leaving an impact. I trust her, nothing should happen."

Lydia's heart stopped and there was no air for her to breathe. She had to get out. She had to get out now, or it'd be worse.

How could it? What was worse than this?

She took her bag and ran out of the house. She couldn't be here anymore. Lydia could not breathe, even with the freshness of the air around her. She knew the feeling, all too well, and each time, it fucking hurt more.

Perhaps she could've figured it out. If she had just payed more attention, wasn't so nonchalant, listened, _tried_. Lydia knew she wasn't friendly. But maybe friendly would've made this enervation she felt now not be here in the first place.

Death. Lydia couldn't find words for it. It _fucking_ hurt. No matter whose, or in what way, it is inevitably painful. Lydia knew well enough the ones who die don't experience death. It's the people around them who do. People like Lydia.

She couldn't deal dealing with yet another. Another unpleasant feeling, the worst feeling in the world, the feeling of death.

Lydia wasn't fond of Stiles Stilinski and she was sure as hell Stiles Stilinski wasn't fond of her, but Stiles Stilinski didn't deserve to die, didn't deserve to be the one who takes his life away. He didn't deserve to be _gone_. No one did.

Her breathing was louder and faster, the air was cold and so was her blood. _Stiles tried to kill himself_. And she was the one watching over him, looking after that he doesn't do it again: And she didn't even know.

Lydia was about to fall to the ground, the weakness of her body growing and she almost surrendered, when she heard her name being called by Scott's voice. She was surprised Scott was in town, but it was most likely for a short time.

"Are you okay? You're pale."

She was. She was sure her blood stopped running through her veins the minute she heard Isaac speaking out that sentence.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was still and quiet, but her heart yelling.

"W-What? Tell you what?" Scott reached out for her hand, as she was about to fall not even noticing it.

"Lydia, what happened?" He asked with concern.

"Stiles tried to take his life away." Lydia bluntly whispered, loud enough for Scott to hear.

Scott watched her frightened, and then escaped her eyes. "Yeah, he did. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He said in a soothing tone.

Lydia didn't want him to apologise, because that was Scott. It wasn't his fault, and she felt bad, she knew she looked at him with judgment, he must've felt the sudden guilt.

"I'm a little dizzy.. Is it okay if I go home?"

"It's okay", the words echoed in Lydia's ears, "But be sure to call us if you feel worse, okay?" Scott faintly smiled.

The strawberry blonde nodded and hurried to the enormous gate. She just wanted to run away, to escape it. Lydia didn't feel her feet, nor she knew where they were taking her, the only thing she cared about was getting away. And finding her breath. She ran, and ran. Somewhere. Nowhere.

There was a loud honk that brought her back to the cloudy Beacon Hills, and she felt warm hands on her arms, not comprehending what was happening. Lydia looked up at the familiar face of a dirty blonde.

"I- W-What are you doing here?" Lydia shot a look of surprise at Malia.

"I have a meeting. What are you doing? You almost died..." Malia still had her hands on Lydia's arms, and Lydia was just shaking.

"I- I was... Thank you, Malia. I don't know what would-"

"Want me to drive you home? I could call Kira, but I kinda wanted to surprise her." The girl in front of her warmly smiled and her eyes lit up.

"That's– cute. I'll call her. You'd be late on your meeting." Lydia returned the smile and hugged Malia afterwards, Malia thanking her.

For a brief moment, Lydia simply stood in place, her brain still trying to deal with the facts she'd found out that day. Still trying to _understand_.

Her eyes found Malia again, and Malia entered the green garden behind the enormous gate. The gate Lydia was getting away from.

* * *

 

The charisma of the sky disappeared.

Lydia walked down the empty Beacon Hills road, incompetent of thinking about anything at all. Her mind was blank, now blocking any thought that would cause her to lose her balance like she already did.

She called Kira to meet her at their favourite café, where they would drink Latte Macchiatos and laugh about irrational things. Lydia's first spilled coffee happened in it, and Kira's first not-so-subtle flirting happened in it. Lydia still remembered how happy she was when it opened, and when she first introduced it to Kira. Everything was simple.

"How's my favourite person?" Kira enthusiastically asked.

Lydia let the thoughts occupy her mind again. She didn't know whether she should tell Kira about the weight she carried or not.

"I'm hungry", was all that left her mouth and the brunette in front of her chuckled, telling her she'd order something for them to eat.

She wasn't honest the last time Kira asked her how she feels. She hated lying to Kira. It was Kira. Her face was too _sweet_ to be lied to. So Lydia didn't.

"Actually, I found something out."

"What?", Kira grinned, but not for long, "You look pale."

There it was. Once again, she had to speak the words out. It shouldn't have been so hard, but it was close to death, and Lydia loathed death. Everyone did.

"Stiles tried to kill himself and I'm literally on suicide watch", she whispered to Kira, just like she did to Scott.

Kira, being Kira, started rambling. "WHAT? Oh my God, that's horrible! He must be protected! What do you mean, you're on suicide watch? You're, like, watching he doesn't do it again? What if he does? Oh my God, I would freak out so bad and I don't even know him-"

"Shh." Lydia closed her eyes, putting her index finger on Kira's lips.

"Sorry," Kira muttered, her lips still under Lydia's finger.

"Kira. I don't think I can do this. I'm scared, terrified, actually. If he tries it again and I–"

"It's okay", Kira's voice peacefully assured and Lydia felt it again. That big, heavy hit in her stomach. That indefinable storm of tears that would never stop leaving her eyes. _It's okay._

No.

It was not and never would be. Nothing was okay. She felt a lack of air, and she felt tears; just thinking about it, about that voice she'd never hear again. Her eyesight went to blur and her breaths fastened.

"Lydia, Lyds.. Lyds, can you hear me?"

Kira's hand reached out for Lydia's cheek, afterward tucking a piece of the strawberry blonde's hair behind her ear. "Hey, you're here, breathe, okay. Calm down, it's okay, I'm here."

Lydia looked at Kira, still attempting to slow her breathing– and block out the agonising thoughts.

"I'm okay." She closed her eyes, being calmer now. She didn't have to explain why she reacted like that because she knew Kira knew about her state. Not so often panic attacks, but when they do occur, Kira would always calm Lydia down. Kira would be the only one who's able to calm Lydia down.

"It's okay not to be okay. Especially after the house problem", Kira prompted, "Why wouldn't you come to me?"

"Did my mom tell you?" Lydia avoided her gaze.

"Why didn't you? I'm your best friend, Lydia." Kira quietly said, her voice trembling at 'best friend'.

"I didn't want you to worry about me. I can fix it." Lydia felt her heart sink and she was dazed out of a sudden, she was not sure if she could fix it... The thought about losing her house ached and she just wished she didn't have to talk about it.

"Lydia, my family will help you too. You don't have to go through this alone." Kira gave her a sweet smile and Lydia couldn't help but smile, too.

"I don't know if I could take it watching over Stiles, fearing any minute he'd try it again. It'd be my fault if he– I can't live with so much guilt."

"He won't do it as long as you're with him. You have to help him, Lyds.. Make him see that he can do things, even if he doesn't actually see them." Kira's voice was gentle.

"What do you mean..?" Lydia stared blankly at her best friend.

"I mean: Do things with him. Ordinary things people usually do. Like, I don't know, cooking or singing or playing UNO."

"I-I don't usually play UNO."

The girl in front of her giggled. "You know what I mean, Lyds," Kira took her hand, "Make him feel normal. He needs your help. And you need his."

"Kira..."

"You're Lydia freaking Martin-"

"And I can do this." Lydia cordially smiled, not believing any word she'd spoken.

She imagined not being able to stop it and she briefly lost breath.

What if she couldn't do it? What if she couldn't _take care_ of Stiles?

* * *

 

The sun was gone.

The heavy rain was thumping on Stiles' windows, being the only sound in his room and Lydia came late that day. She noticed his confused staring; she was never late.

The rest of the day went by promptly. Melissa arrived in the afternoon and the three of them drank coffee before she hurried back to her shift. Lydia watered the flowers in the garden when the rain had stopped, really pointless of her actually, but she needed a distraction. And Stiles made fun of her boringness again, but she proceeded to ignore, whispering curses so he doesn't hear. (He did.)

She didn't mean it, no really, she didn't. Or maybe she did. Lydia didn't know what did she mean and what did she not when it comes to Stiles. He was just so arrogant, and irritating, and completely complicated for her to bother thinking before she speaks. (She should.)

Her eyes didn't leave him for a minute. She was too scared to let them. She'd either distinctly stare at him or look at him from the corner of her eye. She tried to deny that slight feeling of actual care for him, but it was just there and it wasn't going to go away so, she let herself feel it. A little, tiny bit of care for Stiles.

Who knows? Maybe he felt that little, tiny bit of care for her too.

She wanted to talk about it with him, know his reasons, although they were pretty clear. However, Lydia knew Stiles wouldn't ever talk to _her_ about it. She was the last person he'd turn to, evidently.

"You left early yesterday. Scott told me you weren't feeling well. Are you feeling better now?" Stiles spoke after the infinite silence, not sure why it was his concern.

"I'm fine." Lydia lied.

Why does he care?, she thought and the deep part of her was telling her it was because he was worried; she wanted him to be worried. But, she ignored it.

Then, it was silent. Until, it wasn't.

The rain had poured again.

Lydia deliberately ignored any communication with Stiles, which wasn't that much of a success. He was witty. That was a true fact Lydia accepted. Stiles and his annoying remarks, that might be slightly funny, in a certain light. Maybe.

"There's the face again", she'd noticed whilst folding his dried clothes.

"What face?"

"Your 'interrogatory expression' face you supposedly 'just' have, when it's completely different than your normal face. What do you want?" Lydia crossed her arms.

"Uh–oh, okay red head, you're acting like a smartass again, which you aren't, by the way." Stiles nervously said, rolling his eyes.

"Pfft, 'different than my normal face'. Yeah right." He whispered.

Then, Lydia was bothered by him and his inability to _talk_ to her the way normal people do. "Stiles, what is it?"

"Ugh, okay, God, uh– This is going to sound tremendously odd," Stiles could feel his brain lingering, but his heart inquisitively burning in the ardent flame of desire. "Can I touch your face?"

She thought she didn't hear right, that it wasn't his voice, that maybe she conceived it. But she didn't, it was real and it kept echoing in her ears, causing her fear to uncover itself.

"Just to– Get the idea of what you look like.. I'm curious, that's all." She heard him say, her thoughts still captured by his previous words. Stiles scratched the back of his neck, what he usually did when he was nervous, and he wasn't nervous often.

Lydia sat frozen, incapable of speaking, of doing about anything at all. She didn't know the answer as to why, but the question itself came across as an immense wave of confusion. _Can he touch my face?_

Lydia thought of the words Kira had spoken the day before, they echoed in her ears, every hour and every minute. _Make him_ see _that he_ can _do things_. So, perhaps this was _the_ first thing she should do for him. He'd have to have done it before, she was sure of it, but she, on the other hand, never experienced something like this.

Then, Lydia decided not to hesitate anymore, so she neared herself next to him, mumbled a 'Yes', and took his hand in her cold one. She lifted it up a bit, and she wasn't sure of her acts, or what was going on underneath that 'Yes' she shakily whispered, or why his hand was so warm, or why did she feel that current again, or why did she wonder if he felt the current too.

Okay, so maybe Lydia did care about _some_ of his wishes. Wishes like this, for example. Wishes that were in a way important. Wishes that might make her feel the sympathy again. Wishes that maybe awake her big care for him. Because, Lydia's deep part secretly wanted to care for Stiles. Lydia wasn't friendly, but she knew her deep part was. Everyone is friendly in their deep part.

She wasn't sure what to do next. In moments like that, Lydia would avoid it and leave. Not knowing made her insecure and she'd find a way to know. She had to know everything. She did know a lot of things. Unfortunately, what to do when a blind man wants to touch your face wasn't on that list. So there she was, holding Stiles' warm hand, more confused than ever, waiting in anticipation for him to do something.

Stiles sharply inhaled and Lydia let go of his hand as soon as his fingers found themselves on her face. Lydia held in a breath, and didn't let it out, because now she was the current, not even all the oceans in the world were enough for her.

He heard her hold in a breath as his fingers touched her skin, as if being too frightened to breathe. He felt it too, that shakiness of his body when his touch met her, the arousal awakening, as well as the fear. Slowly, he moved them across her forehead, feeling the endearment of it, his body temperature increasing. His hand briefly traveled down to her cheek and his thumb carefully brushed against her temple, as though he was the fire and she the gasoline, and if he was to touch her the world would turn into a blazing disaster.

"This is your cheek?" Stiles quietly asked, his tone apprehensive.

"Yeah.." Lydia's voice was fragile, as if it'd break if she said it louder.

Stiles felt her cheek perfectly fit in his hand, the warmth of it making him question if it was always this warm, or did he _entice_ it. He could feel his heartbeat augment each time she would let out a breath, not exactly comprehending why. This wasn't the first time he had been exploring someone's face features, but it was the first time he felt like exploding, like the fire in him would turn him into dust.

Lydia slowly let out breaths, attempting to make them unheard, but he could hear them. There was a feeling, an ethereal one, that sent shivers through his whole body. It scared him, it did. It was hotter than before, and he was burning. The time had stopped, his heart too. His fingers roamed to her nose, and she closed her eyes, the small finger being on her left eyelash, and he felt its softness on the tip of his finger.

He heard her hold in a breath, then loudly let it out, as if she was gasping for air; just like him. Stiles was lost, and he wasn't always lost. He was almost never lost. And even when he was, he would never let his confusion show in front of Lydia. Well, _this_ kind of confusion for that matter.

Lydia felt an indescribable emotion, more like a connection, like a tiny spark that sees his thoughts, that connects with them in somewhat an emotional way.

Her lips parted at the touch of his fingers, and she slowly opened her eyes, seeing his face just inches apart, his own lips separated just like hers. He held a puzzled expression, his irises staring at her lips, even if he can't see them. Her lips were tender and abundant, but still not quite what Stiles felt before. They were in a way different, in a way he didn't understand, in a way that was arduously desirous.

His hand fell onto his lap, and he spoke no words, only his beating heart breaking the silence that was in the room. His brows were clutched and his face rather clueless and lost and holy shit– For the first time had Lydia seen Stiles look completely, utterly lost.

Stiles would not say it, he'd refuse the thought, but his heart imagined Lydia, and it imagined she was _beautiful_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles was insincere. 

Often. Thoroughly. To everybody. It was as though his walls of insincerity were the only thing protecting him in this misery of a life he had. He could have worse, he knew that. He also knew no one should feel like their problems, just because they might be smaller than someone's else's, don't matter. Problems do matter. Stiles had them and was just as vulnerable as the next person. People are vulnerable. Often. 

He just seemed to have built an insincere facade to not show it to anyone. At least he thought it didn't show. After all, he couldn't see how he looked like. Scott told him his nose has a little curve at the end, and when Stiles felt it, it made him smile. It meant his life was this straight line, but there would come a change and curve his world up. It didn't show up yet, and he got tired of waiting. The curve didn't make him smile anymore. 

Stiles was insincere. To Lydia. Of course he was insincere to Lydia. They haven't talked about him imagining her as some beauty queen or him liking the endearment of her eyelashes, or him thinking her lips were the perfect example of clouds. If he ever told her that, he'd hate himself. Then, all these walls he'd built would be torn apart by honesty, and the fact she was the first to make him feel the need to honestly say what he thinks, was even more alarming than he'd believed it would be. It was  _Lydia_. He hated her. That was the only sincere part of him. His hate for Lydia. (But not for her lips, though.) 

Sometimes he wished he could see her. But, only sometimes and that sometimes wasn't frequently. There were times, though, when he wanted to see her angry expression, or her curious face or her smiling, although he believed she didn't smile much.  _Especially_  around him. But more than anything, he wanted to see her crying face and make fun of it because if Lydia ever cried in front of him, it would probably be because of 'The Notebook' and he knew that. He heard her whisper-shouting at her phone, and found the topic the most stupid thing ever.

"What do you mean you can't watch 'The Notebook' tonight? IT'S WEDNESDAY, KIRA! That's when we do-" Stiles had made his way back to his bed, but he couldn't have missed angry Lydia, so he had carefully stood by the door and started overhearing(which he secretly knew he shouldn't had done). 

"Your girlfriend over your best friend? I'm offended. I can't watch 'The Notebook' alone. Why don't you ditch Malia?" Lydia jokingly asked and Stiles had rolled his eyes, then, using his stick, walked to his bed, the only good place in this world.

And that was how Stiles found out Lydia was obsessed with 'The Notebook', which wasn't even worth crying for, if you asked him. Later that day, he found out about a thing she hated. Except him, of course. However, Lydia probably hated much worse  _things_  than Stiles, but he was somewhere at the top, he figured. 

"I can't stand you." He heard her whispers when she was watering his plants, as usual. 

"What did I do now?" He annoyingly spoke, and really did want to know what he did, because he was simply enjoying the sounds of the nature when she decided to ruin it. 

"Not you. Aloe Vera. I literally hate it. Why do you own it?" 

He scoffed. "You hate Aloe Vera?"

Lydia whispered some incoherent words and he knew she probably rolled her eyes too, because that was Lydia. She rolls her eyes at him all the time, even when he isn't mocking her.

And then later, Lydia found out about his obsession with Nutella and he found out she hated Nutella. Another thing she hated. He could do this all day. Finding out about things that made Lydia angry seemed like an interesting hobby, 'cause she was angry. When she was angry, her voice would turn into this low, loud whisper that screamed anger and hostility. And yet, he thought it was the funniest thing ever. Lydia angry.  _Ha ha_.

She amusingly stared at the twenty six year old eating the whole, extra big jar of  _Nutella_ and in that moment, Lydia was more than sure he was not twenty six. "That's enough Nutella for three days, don't ya think? How can you even so much Nutella? God, I hate it. I will never-"

"I love Nutella," he cut her off, stating a fact. Thing was; this was Scott's fault. When Stiles was about eleven, he had sworn he didn't like Nutella, just because everyone had loved it. That was the only reason. It was chocolate, there's billions. Why should Nutella be special? This was where Scott decided to buy about four jars of it, because he made a bet with some kids at school that he would eat it all, and they'd prove he did it by seeing if he had gained weight. Complete dumbass(es). So, little Scott  _begged_ Stiles to help him eat the Nutella, because as Stiles thought, Scott was a dumbass. Stiles helped of course, because he was a dumbass too. A story of dumbasses, really. When he had felt the taste of the  _special_  Nutella everyone loved, Stiles loved it too. It was too good not to love. 

"Stiles, give me it before you start feeling sick." Lydia attempted to take the jar but the closer she got to it, the further Stiles backed away, because he could hear her breathing whenever she'd get close. And she got close. A lot.

"No." Stiles groaned.  _She. Is. Annoying_. Again.

"I  _will_  take it." 

"No." 

"Fine, I'm leaving,"  _Not really._ Lydia got up and smirk took over her lips. Stiles seemed convinced enough, so she took  _his_ Nutella and lopsidedly smiled. 

"No more Nutella!" Lydia said in a mischievous tone and walked out of his room.

"Hey! You don't play fair!" Stiles sulked. The red head just took his Nutella, like she was the boss in this house. This was  _STILINSKI_  house hold, thank you very much. No way Lydia could boss him around. Lydia's bossy face. He might have wanted to see it more than Lydia's crying face, but they were almost at the same spot. She would most certainly smirk while ordering him what he should and what he shouldn't, because it'd give her satisfaction to have him servile and he'd let her. Because: Lydia's bossy face. Too fascinating not to wonder about.

—

In the warm hour of four, Lydia came back, seeming all excited, Stiles could tell. Her breath was exhilarated and he felt her smile from footsteps away. "I wanna teach you a game."

 _Oh no_. She was not going to teach him anything. No one was going to teach Stiles any games anymore. Games were not allowed. No more. He wanted to raise his voice and let his brain speak for him, as it always would.  _But_  Lydia couldn't have known about the game rule. He chose to be insincere about it, too.

"I don't want to learn games," said Stiles, attempting to make his voice peaceful. 

"Grumpy." He could feel her roll his eyes at him, so he rolled his eyes too, as if they were in some competiton. Although, Stiles knew that's how they worked. She was boring and he was bad-tempered. Both irritated and both not fond of each other. (Except that one time she let him touch her face, so he  _gets the idea_  of what she looks like.)

"Repetitous." He shot back, his voice hoarse.

"Oh yeah? And what do you do the whole day?  _'Hi, I'm Stiles. I probably hate you more than Lydia's hate for Nutella and I'd do anything to make fun of you. If Lydia could leave, that'd be great, because I'd rather eat three million strawberry ice creams than be in her boring presence_.' And yeah, I know you hate strawberry ice cream. I heard you yelling at the TV yesterday. " 

Stiles needed a minute to catch his breath, as he was more than astonished by Lydia's impression of his personality, but even more so with her mentioning his hate for strawberry ice cream, because not a lot of people knew that. It must have slipped when he thought she wasn't there. (She was.) 

He did hate strawberry ice cream. It was the one thing he hated more than he could hate Lydia, but then again, she sometimes made him question that statement. Because this whole idea of someone, of Lydia, taking care of him, an adult, was really fucking nonsense. It was as though his own father considered him weak, as though Scott considered him weak and just about each person he had known. He didn’t fucking need Lydia. Or anyone. 

"Says the one who drinks fifteen coffees a day and still manages to be tired after watering my plants," Stiles pouted his lips, anger building up, " _'Hi, I'm Lydia. All I do is hate on Stiles' 'Aloe Vera' and drink coffee until I'm super jumpy, so that I can annoy the crap out of him with boring topics like 'The Notebook' for example,_ " he high-pitched his voice, before saying: "And I know you love 'The Notebook. I overheard you talking to some Kira yesterday." 

"You did not just call 'The Notebook' boring. Fuck you, Stiles." 

The rage that built up inside of him was gone, replaced by a tiny feeling of fondness. The first time Stiles heard Lydia swear out loud, he thought it was the most adorable thing ever. Lydia. Cursing. Her voice was high and then, low. And it was cute. And he knew he needed to stop.

"When?" He couldn't control his chuckle. 

"February 31st." 

_Ouch._

"Why don't you wanna learn a game?" And she was back. She  _really_ needed to sort out her priorities. She also needed to stop bossing him around. He said no and it was a no. No.

"Because I don't! I'm twenty six, red head, not ten." Lie.

"You're a childish asshole. I'm the one who's twenty six and trying to help." Lydia’s annoyed voice. 

"You could help if you leave, because I'd rather eat three million strawberry ice creams than be in your boring presence." Stiles refrencing what she said about him earlier.

"Guess I will annoy the crap out of you with 'The Notebook' then." Lydia refrencing his come back. 

"I prefer 'A Walk to Remember'." He waited for her to snap at him, because he just insulted ‘The Notebook’ , the thing Lydia loved. 

"What even- I prefer you not dissing my favourite thing." Ha, ha, there it was.

"I prefer 'Star Wars' over all." It was irrelevant, bu he chose to say it, because: Another fact about him and Lydia needed to know those if she was going to have to write a note for his memorial when he dies. This wasn’t Scott’s fault, though. Stiles found out about ‘Star Wars’(literally his favourite thing ever), when an employee in his father’s company gave him the second movie on DVD as a birthday present. Odd, because Stiles is blind and he can’t really watch movies. But he can hear them. He never told anyone, but the night Stiles first watched ‘Star Wars’, was the night he cried because he couldn’t see the magnificent special effects.

"I prefer you telling me why can't I teach you a game."  _Does she ever stop?_ She was the last person he would tell. She was the last person he would trust. There was no way Stiles would ever trust Lydia and speak to her about his rules or his hatred for strawberry ice cream. Or anything.

"I prefer you leaving." 

"Childish asshole." So, she gave up. He was pleased. And he wouldn’t see her- He wouldn’t be in her presence for two days either. He was pleased.

"Thank you."

But then, he wasn’t pleased. Because, Lydia had a lot of other faces he still didn’t discover.

—

If there was one person Stiles would bring into his secret world of Han Solo things(that was an imaginary world his brain created, although he did own  _some_  Han Solo items), it would be Scott. Scott wouldn’t care, but he would try his best to because that was Scott. He just...cared.

Scott was in town for two whole days and that meant a lot of dumbass conversations and happenings that would make Stiles laugh  _and_  then, mock Scott about it. Stiles being with Scott meant he didn't have to be with Lydia. Checkpoint.

"Wanna get laid tonight?"

"Okay, Scotty, no buddy. I still feel great cringe after the whole cat incident.” Oh God, the cat incident. Also known as ‘Cat lady’. Stiles never wanted to experience that again. This was Scott’s fault. The two of them were in a club, that time Stiles was drunk, because Scott made him drunk just to get him out of the house. But the two of them were in a club, girls everywhere, girls Stiles didn't see, and Scott made out with few, while Stiles kept rambling about maths. Then, Scott found Stiles a girl, the one that thought he was hot enough to  _sleep_ with him, and Stiles was drunk enough to think she was division, so he said, ‘Yes’.  _Dumbass._ He doesn't even remember the sex, he just remembers waking up to a bunch of kittens on him(he thought they were rats until he heard meowing). Never again.

“That was  _two_  years ago. It's not even that bad!” How could Scott even know how bad it was? He wasn't the one covered with tiny beings that are soft and possibly cute, but how would Stiles know anyway. 

“You didn't tell me she was obsessed with cats. SCOTT, CATS WERE ON MY FACE WHEN I WOKE UP. I’m pretty sure they pooped on me too.” Stiles puckered his lips, because it actually was  _that_ bad. 

“Grumpy,” said Scott and Stiles thought of Lydia. Scott was Lydia now. He could hear her voice again. Annoying. 

“Cats are adorable and I’m pretty sure I kissed a guy last night. Do you know how good his aftershave was? Jeez.”

Well, Scott kissed a guy. Nothing surprising. Another distraction, Stiles figured. But Scott has been trying to get himself distracted ever since he supposedly felt some invisible connection with a girl one night, the girl that he never saw again, the girl whose name he wasn't familiar with. And it was when he was  _sixteen_. It had been ten fucking years. That scared Stiles. Scott was chasing after someone whose soul was locked behind the doors he would never find. And he didn't even have the key.

“And who was this guy?” 

“Ian? Inigo? I...I…,” Scott lazily spoke,”God, I don't know. Something with an ‘I’.” 

Stiles couldn't hear this anymore. Scott never really settled with the whole dating thing. He would forget the person he had spent hours of cuddling with or the person with whom he had shared the most passionate kisses. It made Stiles sad. But he couldn't know how it felt. Needing someone  _so_  much. 

“Isn't it time to.. Let it go, you know?” 

“Let go what? I'm not Elsa.” 

There wasn’t a thing Scott didn't love, really. Scott and his love for Disney. Scott and his love for puppies. Scott and his love for everyone. Scott and his love. Stiles wished he had that love too. But he was Stiles.

“Well, maybe you should put yourself in Elsa’s dress and let the past go, because apparently, you aren't doing well.” He shouldn't have said it like that, he knew he shouldn't.  _You aren't doing well._ It shouldn't have been those words, because Scott was doing well. Scott was happy and fulfilled, and he appreciated his family and friends. And he loved every single day, and he loved saving lives of helpless animals and he loved caring. Scott was doing well. 

“If you mean me sleeping with too many girls, don't worry. I've moved to boys now.” 

Did Scott ever take things seriously? No. Yes. Both. Not now. 

“I meant  _the_ girl. You know, the one you've seen like, three times in your life ten years ago.” Well, that was the breaking point. Stiles shouldn't have mentioned her.

“I’m over it.” Scott’s voice was rough, but sensitive, fragility buried underneath the coarse tone, “wanna bet she is my soulmate?” 

 _Soulmates aren't real,_ Stiles wanted to say, but he knew Scott and Scott believed in that crap, so he chose not to. 

“That reminds me. You lost our bet.” Stiles changed the topic; something in him told him he's not ready to have that talk with Scott yet. About that girl. Whatever her name is. It’d just bring him down, ruin the atmosphere.

“What bet?”

“Things Lydia hates. You lost. She hates Aloe Vera. Point for me for thinking it's a plant. Can't believe you thought it's me. Shame, Scott,” he joked. 

“Jesus Christ, okay. It’s not like she doesn't hate other things. And she does hate you. Dick,” Scott shook his head, ”how much money do you have from these bets?” His best friend handed him a ten dollar bill, hopefully, because he could easily fool Stiles when it comes to this. 

“I bet tomorrow will be 66,6% boring. She won't do anything except read and overthink. Maybe water her flowers if she has them.” 

It would be like that. All Lydia did was read, annoy, boss around, make snarky remarks, think about every detail and make Stiles wonder if he wants to be honest or not. 

"I don’t think that. You shouldn't make assumptions like  _that_  either. I think Lydia's a very interesting person. I bet tomorrow will be great for her.”

His best friend teaming up with the person he despised?  _Screw you, Scotty._

“Fifteen bucks. And for the record, Lydia is boring. So is her life, Scott.”

“But you know nothing about Lydia's life." 

And then Stiles really thought about it. What even did he know about Lydia Martin? She liked the sunset. No, she loved the sunset. When sun kisses the earth. Lydia loved it. Her hair was strawberry blonde. Like strawberries and flames. But he called her red head to provoke her, because he liked it. She liked to eat pizza, and she seemed to like pancakes too. She had a tender skin, especially her cheeks. Her lips were plentiful and incandescent, and burning underneath his fingers. Her favourite movie was ‘The Notebook’ and she liked to watch it on Wednesdays with her friend Kira apparently. Lydia’s eyes were… He didn't know what colour. 

And… That was it. That was everything Stiles knew about Lydia. And it was all  _superficial_. 

Lydia Martin was a mistery. 

He liked solving mysteries.

Lydia wasn't the topic for the rest of the day, but yet he still couldn't quite get Scott’s words out of his brain.  _You know nothing about Lydia's life._

—

Stiles knew he had the best ideas, but this day’s idea was the worst.   
It was the afternoon of the month October and Scott left early, and Stiles got mad at him for that. He got even more mad when Scott called Lydia without telling him. 

“I can't leave you alone, dude. Besides, Melissa will come earlier so it won't be long.” 

“You could have called anyone, Scotty. Do you hate me?” 

“It's her job,” Scott prompted, “I'll see you in a week, hopefully. It's been wild at work.” 

Scott McCall had been one of the most succesfull vetenarians in Beacon Hills area(he lived out of town, though). He had his own office, led by him, his own employees, his own apartment and everything Stiles desired. But Stiles always wanted to be like Scott. Scott was kindness and purity, his wings healed everyone around him. 

“Bye, dick head,” and he kissed him on his forehead; mocking reasons only. So maybe Scott wasn’t that pure. Stiles loved Scott. But now he wanted to fucking get back at him. How did he even have Lydia’s number?

“Yeah, love you too, dumbass.” Stiles rolled his eyes, a little smile on his lips.

It was the afternoon of the month October and Lydia involuntarily entered Stiles’ room, bringing him his favourite coffee. There was a short silence after he’d taken the warm drink from her, feeling its heat on his skin. Stiles knew he had the best ideas, but this day’s idea was the worst.

“We can play your game,” he broke the game rule. 

He broke  _the game rule_. He broke it because of Lydia _._  Because somehow, Scott’s asshole side got him thinking. Because it woke him up.Because of her strange capacity to make him feel bad. And because the depth of him felt like it was time. 

“What? R-Really?” 

“Yeah…” He was uncertain, but certain. At the same time.

Lydia was quiet. “Well, how do you play it?” He asked. 

Her voice was nervous and she softly spoke, as if being frightened of upsetting him. And Stiles felt guilty, for some reason… “Oh, right. Well, I tell you a word and you have to guess the colour of it. But I will, um, try to explain you the colours first-”

“I know the colours.” It came across as harsh. The obtained harshness he didn't want it to have. And it did, because he was breaking the game rule. He hasn't broken it for years. 

“Oh, um, okay.”

 _Jerk. You're discouraging her._ When it comes to being polite to people he hated, people like Lydia, Stiles didn't try. Why be polite to someone you hate? But he’s just discouraged her and breaking the game rule would be for nothing if they didn't play the game. So Stiles tried to be polite to the person he wasn't fond of. He cursed Scott McCall, his best friend, brother, dumbass and a soft petal. But, never again. 

“But you can describe them to me again.” 

He felt the atmosphere loosen up, and that was a good sign. “Which colour first?” Lydia questioned and he was pretty sure she moved closer to him and that her legs were on his bed and that she was beyond the boundary, because he rarely let Lydia be on his bed, with her whole body. Right.

“Green.”  _Is solved_. His father taught him the different stages of investigation once when Stiles was little and it was simple to memorise the colours that way. Imagine what they looked like. Green meant everything was in its place. 

"Green is that fresh smell of new books, and the smell of grass of course, which is my favourite smell-"

"Hermione Granger much?” Stiles giggled, but couldn't help himself mentioning the famous Hermione when hearing ‘the smell of grass’, “No wonder why you're boring."  _Oh no._

"Oh really? We're on that level? I didn't say anything about your wands in the cupboard."

Well, shit. She got him. But he got her too. "But you played with them. Don't deny it." 

"I-I- How could you know that? You don't even-"

"I know how I leave my wands! Someone touched them and now I know it was you. Don't play with my wands!" He had five. He was certain they probably were the same. His dad got them for him when Stiles was in his ‘Harry Potter’ phase. This was Scott’s fault,  _as well_. Scott made him play wizards and they read ‘Harry Potter’ books every day, because Melissa accidentally bought them and forced Scott to educate himself. Not really, she just thought he’d love it. He did. And then he got Stiles into it. And soon, the world without ‘Harry Potter’ wasn’t a world. Stiles liked Ron.

"What an idiot. " Lydia said, in the fucking British accent. Holy shit.  _Holy shit_. It  _almost_ sounded hot. Stiles stopped himself.

"You're a nightmare, honestly.  _And_  boring enough to quote Hermione." He got her now.

"And you're dumb enough to reference Ron, but hey, I'm not saying anything." Shit, she got him. And she just offended Ron Weasley, Stiles’ favourite character. 

"Back off, Ron is my favourite!" His voice cracked, still affected by Lydia’s three words in British.

"Stop insulting Hermione!"

"I like Harry." A familiar voice said. Scott. What the hell was he doing here? 

"Scott, for the love of God, what-"

"Are you seriously arguing about- What even are you two doing?" Scott most likely entered the room, because his voice was nearer.

"I'm teaching Stiles a game." 

Scott would think about it. On his way back. He would think about why had Stiles broken it. The game rule. He would wonder if Lydia made him break it. He would think she did. He wouldn’t be wrong. He woud ask himself why. He would know Stiles had a strong dislike for Lydia and he would wonder why. When he asks Stiles, he won’t get the answer. Because Stiles didn’t know.

"A game? But, games ar-"

"Shut up, Scott. What are you doing here?"  _Almost slipped_. Lydia wasn’t allowed to know about the rule, of course. She was Lydia. 

"Would you like to join us, Scott?" Stiles heard her tentatively ask. 

"Some other time. I was on my way to my place, but forgot my leather jacket.”

Stiles wanted the leather jacket. He wanted it a lot. So finding out he was alone with it for a few hours and he could’ve stolen it, which meant he would get back at Scott for calling Lydia, made him hateful. He just missed a great chance.

"Also, I almost forgot. What were you doing yesterday, Lydia?" Where was Scott going with this?

"Oh, that should be personal-”

“I’m not creepy, swear.”  _Oh, Scotty you are._

“Um, I was at home and then I went to cinema with Kira and her girlfriend. Was fun being a third wheel. Why?" 

 _Boring._ Lydia’s life. 

"HA! Stiles, you owe me fifteen bucks." Scott raised his voice in a joyful tone and Stiles was thinking of ways to get himself out of this. Lydia was going to be angry. Lydia’s angry face. Scott would meet it.

"Why do you owe him fifteen bucks?" He felt she turned her eyes to him, her voice mediocre. 

Stiles thought of million excuses, but all that left his mouth was: "He's a child." Fucking brilliant.

"He lost our bet. Your day was filled with an interesting activity and he bet it would be 66,6% boring. I win." Scott told Lydia, and Lydia’s face presumably went angry. 

Stiles sighed. "Dude." 

"Geez, okay I'm leaving." Scott left.

Lydia was angry. Stiles knew she was angry. And he needed to explain. He never needed to explain. But she was Lydia.

"Listen, red head,"

"Wow, you're an asshole but tell me something I don't know. Do you have such big problems with my boringness, that you literally bet on it like you're ten?" Her voice was shrill, but cold and he felt her anger around him. 

"Believe it or not, I'm just trying to point out you're wasting your time here. You should occupy yourself with fun things. Something that you don't usually do. Something that's not boring." He conceded. 

He had been giving it a thought once in a while. Lydia being here, in this boring Beacon Hills, where nothing ever happens. This town made her boring, so she did boring things. There were greater things a person like Lydia could do, greater cities she could live in. Why was she still holding onto this place? 

"Oh, don't pretend like you care. You bet on my life for fun. You're a dick. And for the record, my hair is strawberry blonde. Dumbass." 

_I know._

"Oh come on. You played with my wands!" He waved his hands in front of him, and tried to sound as annoyed as possible, but all he felt was guilt. The thing he’s been feeling the whole day. Guilt. 

Lydia left, too.

—

"I'm going to bed. Don't be long boys." Melissa smiled at Noah, then at Stiles, placing a kiss on his forehead. Noah just winked at her and kept smiling until she was out of the room. 

"When are you gonna do it?" Stiles asked, yawning,

"Do what?"

"Kill a damn rat. What do you think, dad?" 

"I'm trying to find the right moment." 

His dad and Scott’s mom were a thing, but his dad was dragging it with the wedding thing. Who the fuck waits so long? He’s been with Melissa ever since Stiles was twenty two and they still didn’t marry each other. One thing that was irritating about his dad. 

"Blah, blah. Spare me all that romantic crap. Just propose already. I want Scott's famous leather jacket and he told me I can have it when you propose, but-"

"Be a good son and shut up." His father interrupted.

"Well, I'm offended." 

All Stiles did was encourage his dad. What did he get? Declaration he’s being a good son when he’s quiet. Best gift ever.

Maybe discouraging Lydia had something to do with it. And then, Lydia was on his mind. No. 

“I’m gonna need you to have another meeting with Miss Tate next week.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“You told me to spare you all the romantic crap.” 

Stiles almost screamed. His old man was finally going to do it. Grow some balls. Not much, he just needed four years. “Oh my God, where?” He playfully hit Noah’s hand(or he hoped he did) and heard him chuckle. It sounded old. 

“I’ll let you know tomorrow. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” Noah stood up and Stiles took his hand, his mind smiling and so was his heart. 

—

He never thought he’d be the humble one with Lydia, but the colossal feeling of guilt and curiosity made him make that happen and then, Stiles was humble. The whole game thing made the night hollow and the morning lose its magic. (Not that Stiles could see, he just sensed it.) The bet thing was even worse, but it should open her eyes. He even slightly hoped it would open her eyes.  _Slightly._

He was going to regret being humble. He was going to regret doing what she wants again. God, Lydia was a fucking time bomb. Stiles hated it. It’s been long, and he still couldn’t figure her out. One thing he did know: She was boring. A boring time bomb. Apparently they exist. He met one. 

Lydia didn’t make him coffee that morning. She was being dramatic again. He couldn’t blame her. He wanted to. She was Lydia. She was annoying and boring and bossy and she hated Nutella. There was a lot to blame, but he couldn’t because this was on him. Stiles couldn’t know how much it sucked to have someone bet on how boring your life is, but it was an idiotic thing to do. Maybe he was an idiot. But she was Lydia. And he wouldn’t apologise. Instead, he’d act like always. But that day, he didn’t. He was humble. 

"Can we play the colours game?" It had been quiet long enough, and Stiles felt his thoughts running through his room. Should he or should he not? He did. 

"No." Lydia seemed to be in his closet, and she said it silently, but he could always hear a ‘No’. 

"You left yesterday,"  _really early,_ he thought, "and you didn't finish explaining them to me. I'm curious."

She came out of his closet and hestitated. He just knew she did. "Okay... But I'm still mad."

"As you wish, miss Granger." Stiles attempted a joke, but it didn’t exactly make things better.

“Tell me a colour and I will describe it to you.” Lydia sat on his bed, breaking boundaries again. 

"Yellow."  _Is to be determinded._

"Yellow is as bright as the sun. It's light." 

Stiles imagined the sun. He didn’t really remember it. It was so bright, like heaven. It was burning and it was so distant, untouchable yet, its burning flames would still feel on his skin.

"Blue."  _Is just pretty_.

"I love blue. Blue is tears. Each tear gets darker." 

Stiles imagined tears. They were dripping and impeccable, but damaged and hurting. He didn’t feel them on his cheeks in a long time. He almost forgot the softness they contained.

"What about orange? I like that one."

She made a sound of disgust. "Orange.. God, I hate that colour." 

"Orange is like autumn leaves, the ones that are bright like fire, and then lose it all. It's like fire. It burns." 

Stiles loved fire, the sun. And he loved the endearment of the tears. 

"Orange and blue seems like a good combination." 

Lydia scoffed. "Oh,  _please_. Orange and blue? Not a good combination." 

For just a moment, he thought. He tried to rememeber what is looks like when the sky is crying and the sun burning simultaneously. It was delicate. 

"Well, you know, sometimes there's things you wouldn't think would be a good combination end up turning out to be like a perfect combination."

It was silent. "Yeah. I can see that." Lydia spoke, her voice unsure. 

And there was that feeling of connection in Stiles’ mind. The one he didn’t really know yet. It was an acquaintance of his, but not a friend. Yet.

"W-what does red look like?"  _Unsolved._

"Hmm, okay, well. Red is like...Passionate sin. Unpredictable. It's like seeing something for the first time, and lust fills you. Then your cheeks get the colour. You know, it's like seeing someone you like and turning red because you feel the wind that's not blowing. Red is  _loving_." 

He swore it was the most compassionate voice Lydia ever spoke in. And he learned another thing Lydia loved: Red.

*

"Flames."

"Orange."

"Sky."

"Blue?"

Stiles was breaking the game rule. He broke every aspect of it. He was feeling electric.

"Okay, strings."

"Strings?" What did Lydia mean with that? There’s countless strings. They can be any colour. They can be colourless. 

"Maybe strings of fate. Fate."

"Um... fate? There's a colour for that?"

"How would you colour it?"

There was a colour for fate. Apparently. Stiles imagined fate. It was unpredictable. It was sin, sometimes. Sometimes, it was passionate. Sometimes, it ended suddenly… Sometimes, it was burning like the sun and sometimes, it was the sadness in the rain. Sometimes, it was desire. Want. Wind. Clouds. Fire. Fate was everything and nothing.

"Red.. I guess." He didn’t guess. He knew.

"You got it right!" Lydia's smile grew wide and she looked at Stiles, whose face was expressionless, then clapped her hands.

It was sometimes now, and sometimes was when Stiles wished he could see Lydia's face. She sounded enthusiastic and she sounded  _lovely_. She sounded fond. Maybe even likeable. 

Lydia noticed a little stain of chocolate in the corner of his lips. "You've got a little something," said Lydia, and her hand reflexively flew to her own face, showing where the chocolate was. But then she remembered.  _He can't see._

"Where?" He asked while his hand tried to find the spot somewhere on his cheek. Shit, it probably was the Nutella. (Stiles hid a jar of Nutella under his bed and ate it while Lydia was down in the kitchen, doing something he wasn’t bothered about.) 

"Here, let me," she stretched out her arm to remove the small chocolate stain near his lips and before barely even touching it, he abruptly backed away, as if there was a lighting strike in his room and he felt it coming. She loudly sighed before Stiles muttered a sorry. Then, she gently brushed her thumb across the spot where the little smear happened to be, (yes,he ate Nutella again, after she specifically told him not to. But she probably already knew that.), and he startled at her evanescent touch, like she was some kind of a storm and well, he was scared of storms. 

"Red strings of fate really do exist, you know", he heard her say.

"What?"

"Red string of fate. It's in Chinese mythology. It bounds two people together, they're destined to meet to help each other in a certain way, and when they're connected with the red string of fate, they would never be apart and their hearts would belong to each other. They're soulmates. It's like this romantic belief." Lydia continued and he wondered how did she know about Chinese legends and myths.

"Do you believe in fate?" He huskily let out.

"I don't. There's no such thing as fate." 

"Well... I do." 

Stiles was sincere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Lol I have absolutely no idea whatthefuck is this chapter , I didn't think it through- I just love banter. 6k words, yeah boi 
> 
> -Also, completely Stiles POV(with some Lydia in it bc he can't see), but should I do more JUST Stiles' POV's or Both Lydiaandstiles combined? :)
> 
> -BY THE WAY, I've gotten a lot of comments saying how this is exactly like 'Me Before You' and let me just- Clarify. Yes, it's totally inspired by the book/movie and I honestly thought it was clear, because of the whole 'caretaker' thing. But I promise, it's completely different too. I have different things I want to do, that are nothing like 'Me Before You'. So yep, I hope you stay tuned <33
> 
> -Sorry this book's getting worse(AND MY WRITING) eh— but hopefully good things to come ;)
> 
> -Did you like this chapter?(lmao) What part was your fave? What didn't you like? Why/Why not? TELL ME PLEASE, TY I'd love to read your opinions.
> 
> -Sorry for all the mistakes in this chap, i was lazy to reread (◠‿◠✿)
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> -Maria


	7. Chapter 7

Lydia blamed herself after her father left.

She wasn't enough. Her mom wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. So, he left. Just like that. Like she was nothing. Like she didn't even matter. Maybe she didn't.

He used to buy her Nutella and he used to watch 'Disney Channel' with her. She liked when he would make her a bowl of bananas with Nutella. They'd eat it together without Natalie knowing, because Natalie rarely let Lydia have sugar. He told her her mom can't say anything against it, because bananas are fruit and they're healthy, and that was the trick. He used to not cheat on her mom and he used to buy Lydia things because he loved her, not because he wanted her to love him _again_. He ruined her family and she couldn't do anything about it. It was her fault; she didn't stop him.

Lydia blamed herself after her father left.

She knew she would always do it. Think about the possibilities of mistakes she's made to make him leave like that or wonder what could have she done to stop him. Think if she herself was the mistake... Think of everything that could have happened if he was with her. Just think.

Lydia, when she was ten, seeing suitcases in her parents' bedroom and asking them if they were leaving her alone because she invited Mandy White to a sleepover without them knowing.

Lydia, at eleven, hearing her friends complain about their dad's not getting them the right lip gloss. And then laughing with them, because they couldn't know she didn't have a dad to buy her one.

Lydia, thirteen, seeing the posters for the first father-daughter dance in her school and smiling, because it would have been the first real dance she'd have attended. But she had no one to take.

Lydia as a fifteen year old, having her very first real crush on a boy whose smile she could never resist. Lydia as a fifteen year old, being asked on a date for the first time in her life and her mom always smiled but she missed it. She missed someone telling that boy she liked to take care of her. She missed someone narrowing their eyes at that boy, but winking at her because she knows he's trying to scare him. But there was only her mother's smile.

Lydia with seventeen, crying herself to sleep because of her broken heart. And the boy who broke it would just move on like she's glass, it didn't matter if she was broken or not. Not to anyone, not to him, not to her dad.

Lydia, losing an important person in her life, if not the most important and not being able to say anything for months, not being so able to sleep or breathe. Her person was gone, and nobody could ever heal her. It made her wonder if there was a reason to continue, to try. All she could do was cry pointless tears that bring back nothing. Pointless tears that made it worse. But maybe her dad's forehead kiss would have made her tears vanish.

Lydia, graduating high school, being held high by her teachers because she was the best in their class. She still had the picture with diploma, her smile prettier than tulips. If only that smile was real. She would never forget her mom's face, proud and happy, and her mom's hug, warm and loving. If only her dad's eyes shined with proudness and he kissed her on the cheek. But he wasn't even there. He never came. That night, she cried.

Lydia, done with law school, top of her year. Her friends' laughter filled the room and she had the best cakes made. Everyone was congratulating her, because she had accomplished something so big and they knew she could make it. He didn't know. And not even joy around her and the best cakes she'd ever eaten, or her friends' laughs or the fact she acknowledged her intelligence weren't worth it, because there was no one to impress. He should've been there.

Lydia, twenty six, still thinking she'd done something wrong. Just... why wasn't it ever enough? All she did, was for her dad to come and see how far she made it without him. But he never did. She was not enough.

"Miss Martin, can we talk?"  
Noah was never home when Lydia worked. But he was that day and yet, she came to work anyway. He most likely needed something from her. It was okay, though. Noah Stilinski was probably the most heartwarming man she's met.

"Depends. Am I in trouble?" His face didn't look like she was in trouble, but she was just making sure. 'Can we talk' was never good.

"No, of course not." The man chuckled, so she let out a fake chuckle herself.

"Melissa and I are going to Paris."

"That's amazing. Paris is beautiful!" Lie. Lydia didn't know it. How would she know? She's never been there. It was beautiful from the pictures she's seen, but pictures mean nothing compared to experience.

"Stiles, well, he doesn't want to go. And Scott is on a trip with his business partners."

She knew where was this going. She was afraid. Lydia had to think fast. Would she or would she not? She wouldn't.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you... Could stay with him? Just for four days. You'd get everything you need." _No._

"Uh, Mr Stilinski I... I don't know." She didn't want to be rude, she really didn't, but she didn't want to be around Stiles, for four days, nonstop. Non. Stop.

"Please, I'll double the payment." She almost said 'yes', because of the desperation in his voice, but she still had to at least think about it.

"It's not about it, really-"

"I wanna surprise Melissa."

Lydia sighed, looking at the floor, because she really couldn't refuse him looking at his face. But she thought about it too, it couldn't be that bad. She'd get enough money, as well. Goddamned Stiles, he isn't a monster. Maybe.

"... Good. I'll stay with Stiles." Lydia knew it was going to be the proposal. It had to be. The city of love. The big surprise. Obviously. And she liked Melissa. Melissa deserved it. Lydia had only ever seen Paris on pictures and videos, but she never felt its magic in her veins. One time, she would go there. Whenever it was, she would go there. When she is ready. But not yet.

It was well. At least she wasn't going to lose her house, because Mr Stilinski would pay her enough to keep her home. But she was going to go insane with Stiles for four freaking days.

—

**Day one**

It was 7 am when Lydia packed all her things she needed in her floral suitcase her father bought her. She was supposed to get rid of it, just like she did with everything that's left from him, but she kept it, because she promised it would travel the world with her. And Lydia liked to keep her promises, no matter how hard it was for her.

Kira stayed the night and they ate vanilla ice cream and Kira teased her about Stiles again. Lydia didn't wanna wake her, because it was way too early considering they were up until 4 am being on Tumblr, so she kissed her on the forehead and smiled seeing her so peaceful. She left a little note for her too and she knew Kira would like the little hearts she doodled, because that was just Kira. She loved details and love.

And Lydia loved her bed. She was gonna miss it. She checked if she had everything she needed one more time, before leaving her bedroom she's lived in her whole life.

Dior perfume, her pink hairbrush, her mint deodorant, the tiny dog toy on her keys, her keys, her phone, her charger, her make up bag, friendship bracelet, Malia's picture, her wallet, toothbrush, her drabble notebook, headphones, a Reese's chocolate bar, some headbands and her flower pen. Lydia was ready.

Everyone was in the white living room except Scott and Lydia left her things in the hallway to wish them a safe trip. Well, to wish Noah and Melissa a safe trip. Stiles had his grumpy expression on again and she couldn't wait to ignore it the whole day.

After Noah and Melissa left, he said something multiple times, but her ears were tuned to Lana Del Rey, Malia's favourite. Usually, Lydia didn't like the same things as Malia, because they were completely opposite, but she had to agree on this one. Sometimes she wished she was closer with Malia, and she really wanted to see what Kira saw, but the two of them never really found something that connects them. It was almost like she had to like her because of Kira. Malia used to play in a band in high school. She had damn good vocals and played guitar  _really_ good and that was pretty much one of the only things Lydia knew about her. But Malia had a good soul, Lydia just didn't meet it yet.

She'd told Kira to call her whenever she could, because Lydia needed to talk with someone else other than Stiles. Lydia didn't want to talk to him. In case he's forgotten, she was still pissed he did that bet thing. That was a stupid idea. She over thought a lot, that she couldn't even sleep. It was the breaking point and she regretted she ever took this stupid job, _again_. He constantly made her feel down. It wasn't like she couldn't see her insecurities. She damn well could. More than anyone. Why did he have to make it worse than it already was? Jerk.

"If you thought I'd be fine that easily, you thought wrong." Lydia put sugar in his coffee, and realised he wasn't going to apologise, so she decided to go on that topic.

"Oh my God, seriously? I don't even know what the big deal is." Stiles did his lip pout again, that she found absolutely frustrating and it just annoyed her more.

"What's the big deal? You made me feel like shit," she was _so_ mad and she was _so_ hateful, she wondered how did he not feel guilty, she didn't understand, "that's the big deal."

"It's none of your business what I do and what I don't. You know, making fun of someone's life you know nothing about is stupid, Stiles. It makes people feel like shit. It made _me_ feel like shit. And see, you can't understand that feelings exist and sometimes, they're more a person can handle and you don't even try to understand you make people around you _sad_. I thought you'd apologise, but you probably don't even know what an apology is."

With that, Lydia was out of the room, for there was nothing else to say. The rest of the day went by not so quick like Lydia wanted. She had a long chat with their maid, Marina, whom she'd never met till that day, and Lydia wished she could stay, but she left as the evening neared. Luckily for her, she didn't have to speak with Stiles anymore, she deliberately ignored it and he was listening to the TV most of the time. He was in his old trousers and some grey t-shirt the whole day and he didn't call her for help to get in bed. But she checked if everything was okay before leaving to her room. He was already sleeping and Lydia knew she'd regret if she didn't put some blankets over him the next day, so she swiftly did that and left.

She stared at the darkness, because she couldn't sleep. She would sleep over at Kira's a lot, even Malia's, but not in anyone else's house. Ever. Everything just felt wrong. The sky was different, the air was different, she was different... She was afraid to fall asleep, in a way. It was like she was nine again. Nancy Fields told her a story one day, and when Lydia remembers it now, it's not scary at all. But to little nine year old Lydia, it was the scariest thing she's heard. So scary, she imagined things under her bed that night. And her dad had come to her room and gave her warm hugs as he told her a pretty story until she fell asleep. She turned the lamp on the night stand on and went to search for her drabble notebook.

She had not even opened it, when she heard a scream, and it terrified her more that it wasn't even her own. She jumped out of the bed fast and turned on all the lights, in her room and in the hallway, then in Stiles' room too.

"Stiles?!" He didn't seem to hear her, because he was crying, 'Wake up,' and and had no control over his body, and fear crept into her veins.

"Hey, Stiles, I'm here. It's okay, calm down. Stiles," Lydia ran to him as soon as she saw him and spoke unsure. She didn't know what to do so she just gently caressed his shoulder and then took his hand and he gripped it tight.

He wasn't completely calm when he laid back, and Lydia knew that he was scared, because she sure was. But that didn't matter, because she had to take care of him now, not think about her fear. "Stiles, don't worry, I'm here. It's okay."

It wasn't okay.

Lydia stayed, until she was sure he really fell asleep, and put his blanket over him, then removed the little sweat he had on his forehead with a napkin. She felt like leaving him wasn't the best idea and for the first time, Lydia was scared for Stiles. After longly staring at the balcony window and a little bit at Stiles too, she walked away to her bed and didn't know if she would fall asleep.

**Day two**

Lydia didn't sleep well.

Her body hurt and her hair was never this messy. And she was sure she got about two hours of sleep. Lydia wished the reasons she didn't sleep were not what they were, because yes, she was scared of falling asleep and not waking up if something happened to Stiles again. She would close her eyes for a split second, but the image of the event before would be all that she sees. And that was shitty.

She took a shower, hoping it'd relax her and it didn't.

Lydia wasn't friendly. Hell, she never really said anything nice to Stiles. No one deserved _that_ though, and something in her wanted to help badly. She just didn't know how. And she just didn't know how that was her concern.. She also wanted to know why it happened in the first place.

"Despite what you think, I'm not judging. I just wanna know if it was a bad dream or if-"

"Why would I tell _you_ , Lydia?"

She got it. He shut her down immediately. But he was Stiles. She didn't know what to expect. What, did she really think he would tell her about his problems? She was still mad at him too, for God's sake. Her brain really couldn't adjust to not being home, could it?

It was around noon when Lydia got tired of the boring garden and the white walls of the Stilinskis and she decided it'd be fun to go out in town a bit. Now, she couldn't leave Stiles alias little child alone in the house, so she had to _somehow_ persuade him to go out. Stiles was horrible at not being stubborn. He didn't like leaving the house further than his garden. He hated people, other than his family. She didn't even wanna get started on herself. Stiles would never leave the house because of her.

"We're going out, come on." She decided to do it in a spontaneous way. Who cares about if he wants or not, that would have just made everything worse. Maybe it was rude, but screw being friendly. He bet on how boring could her life be. This was the lowest level of rude.

"What?" Stiles frowned.

"You're always in the house. We're going to my favourite cafe, you _have_ to try their hot chocolate!" Lydia got her coat from her room and searched for her phone.

"I'm not leaving this house."

_Oh, but you are._

" _Stiles_. Some fresh air does no harm." Lydia knew he would mention his garden. Three, two, one-

"I can just go out in my garden." There. Stiles didn't even know how boring his garden was. And especially near the end of October, when autumn leaves have fallen and the cold has washed over the once blooming roses. It was as if everything was dying.

"You need to be around people more. We're going, come on. I'll help you." Lydia walked over to Stiles and helped him put his black coat and he quietly obeyed, a frown on his face.

"Thanks for asking me..."

She heard him mutter, but ignored it. Lydia was satisfied with what she got. At least he didn't yell or complain for half an hour. Her smile of satisfaction was on her face the whole way to 'Wolfie heaven', hers (and Kira's) favourite café and she couldn't wait to order Stiles something he didn't want to have.

He had his grumpy expression when they arrived and he had it when they sat too and he had it when she ordered as well. Stiles didn't go out much, or at all, and Lydia assumed some whys, but it was a great day and she didn't wanna occupy herself with that. They sat in silence, partly because he was tense since the morning and partly because she had no energy to talk, since she didn't sleep well.

Stiles drank his hot chocolate and burned himself on the tongue because Lydia was too careless to warn him not to take big shots. And he had a huge whipped cream smear on his nose which wasn't surprising. Lydia took a napkin and removed it after she couldn't resist her eye roll. He was kinda cute in a certain light but eh, not like she'd tell him that.

Sometimes people who would pass by their table would look at them with pity, since Stiles' held his stick and Lydia fucking hated that. Couldn't they just mind their own business? _Dickheads._

When she said Stiles should be around people more, this wasn't what she wanted. Why were people always so... Judgmental? And then Lydia knew why Stiles hated people. Just because Stiles was blind, didn't mean he wasn't normal (well, in some cases Lydia had to admit he... Yep.) and that he should be treated with pity. Stiles hated pity. So did Lydia. Who knew they'd have something in common.

"It was a nightmare. I scream because I'm trying to wake up. It's not the first time it happened." She heard him suddenly say.

"Why does it happen?"

Maybe Stiles would finally act like a person and communicate. It really was a great day.

"I don't know."

Stiles was blind. Could blind people have dreams? Lydia realised she didn't even research about blindness. But then again, she knew enough. Just not everything. Why'd she do it because of Stiles anyway.

"But how do you have nightmares if-"

"I can't see? It's a psychological thing. See, if you've been blind your whole life, you don't have dreams. But if you could see at some part of your life, your brain will memorise the things you've seen and you can visualise it. But my nightmares consist of darkness and it's like I'm running. But it's eternal darkness. Just big nothing."

That didn't sound terrifying at all.

"Well, uh, do you want me to call Sc-"

"No!" Stiles interrupted.

"Don't call Scott. Or my dad or Melissa. It's okay."

_I don't believe that._

She didn't believe it. Actually, she was sure she almost never believed a thing Stiles would say. And Lydia knew he didn't want to worry his family and she respected that, but it definitely was not okay. What the hell would she do if it happened again?

They both finished drinking their hot drinks and Lydia payed, even though she had an argument with Stiles over who will pay for ten minutes. She didn't even know Stiles brought a wallet, or that he even had one. At least he wasn't a douche in that case, most people don't offer to pay for her and she wonders how she still has money.

It was weird to have keys to a mansion like Stiles'. Lydia never dreamed of her house being big, because her dad bought her a small Barbie dollhouse once and it was her ideal home. And as white and boring Stiles' house was, Lydia loved its glamour and largeness. 

It's not something Lydia thought she would notice, but each time she helped Stiles up the stairs, his grip got tighter. It probably didn't mean anything, other than his fear, so she brushed that thought off and turned TV on.

Cooking was her enemy, so she ordered some Mexican food and when she helped Stiles to eat, he mentioned Isaac and said Mexican was his favourite. She remembered Isaac's pretty face, and secretly hoped she'd see him again. He seemed sweet. She briefly smiled and said nothing, due to her pissed off-ness, because she decided to act the way Stiles did. Maybe then, he would see he was treating people the wrong way.

And then later, she went to the balcony like usual and watched the sun falling asleep. Noah called in the night hour when Lydia watched 'Law and order' with Stiles and asked if everything was fine and she said it was. It wasn't. But Stiles asked her not to tell, so she didn't.

He said he was tired so she turned the TV off and got his pyjamas. The light wasn't on, just a glimpse from the hallway and Lydia was grateful because it just made it less awkward. And when she took care of nicely getting him into bed, she was ready to sleep all night and made her way to her room.

"Lydia," he shakily whispered.  
  
Now, Stiles called Lydia _Lydia_ only when: He needed help with something he thought was utterly embarrassing, he was angry with her, he made fun of her or when he would be serious and act like a real grown man, which was rare. But that time, he said it with an endearing touch, he said it sensitively, like it would disappear if he were to raise his tone. He said it like he liked it.  
  
She shivered. "Yeah?"  
  
"Can you stay here?"

Stiles, that Stiles, that would burn the grounds just to not be with Lydia in the same room, just said _that_. It made her kind of sorrowful. She never really thought about what Stiles could be dealing with, just that he couldn't see. Wasn't that enough?

"Just in case... Yanno."

She hesitated for a moment. But there was the sympathy again. She couldn't just leave him alone after it was so not okay to leave him alone. "Okay."

"I'll take the..." Stiles didn't have a couch in his room. Great. Where was she going to sleep?

There was a chair in the corner, but it was tiny and uncomfortable and God Lydia hated that ugly chair. "I'll take the chair."

"You don't have to," Stiles said after a short silence.

"You can lay at the other side of the bed. I don't mind."   
Of course he minded. Lydia knew Stiles. He was insincere and closed and he'd distance himself oftentimes and he'd be mad for weeks if she made the slightest mistake. He'd laugh only at his own jokes and he'd make fun of her hair colour, even though he knew it's not red like Ariel's. And he _would_ mind when she got closer to him than the boundary let her to. (In order to help him, of course. No other reasons. Not at all.)

"Just no body contact, yeah?"   
There it was. The boundary. As if she would ever make any 'body contact'. Did he forget she... hated him too?

"Don't worry about that," Lydia put away some pillows she didn't need on the side next to Stiles', where no one ever slept, and she made herself comfortable underneath the huge, white blanket, and tried to get as far as she could from his side on the bed, "goodnight, Stiles."

"Goodnight, red head."

He didn't say her name and she wanted him to.

—

 **Day three** (She actually liked this one.)

Lydia woke up to the warm touch on her hand and opened her eyes to see his dark hair and her arm around him and his hand holding hers, that was so tiny compared to his. She had her arm around Stiles and their fingers were intertwined, well, his were holding hers, and his arm over her own arm was cold and she swallowed air. _Well, then._

The strawberry blonde didn't want to panic, because holy shit. If Stiles woke up to _that_ , it'd just make everything that's already awkward even more awkward. No pressure, all she needed to do was take her hand out of his and then slide it underneath his arm, without waking him up. He held it really strongly. How did he even know how to take it. How did Lydia, who moved miles away from him, get so close that she could hear his breath?

Okay, Lydia had to stop thinking so much and not focus on her heartbeat. She lifted up her head a little, just enough to see over his shoulder, and slowly moved her arm and she was so, so close but then he woke up. SO close.

"Heey Stiles, I woke up aaages ago. Get up, sleepy head." She jumped out of bed faster than she ever has in her whole life and stretched her words, and was pretty sure Stiles knew she lied but.

"What time is it?" Stiles' eyes were still closed and he sat up.

"I'm not sure, I think it's-" Lydia remembered he had a clock in his room, right. Who doesn't have a clock in their room. Why was she so lost lately?

She wouldn't have freaked out if the clock hadn't read 1:13 pm. Did they really sleep so long? Why did they sleep so long? Maybe the clock was broken. That was probably it. She quickly took her phone from the night stand.

 _1:14 pm_. Shit.

"It's 1 pm. I'll make us something to eat!" Lydia stormed out of the room before he could say anything else and sighed. What a day and she didn't even fully wake up yet.

She still felt as if Stiles was holding her hand.

*

"We're out of groceries. We're gonna need to go shopping today."

Lydia came back upstairs after she saw there wasn't much they could eat in the fridge and she wasn't a cook, as stated. Stiles wouldn't want to go.

"Can't you do that? Or I can just call our maid."

Just like she thought. He was always so cranky. She didn't know why she tried.

"No, Stiles, it's Marina's free week. We're going."

"I don't want to."

"Come on, don't be a kid. I'll help you get ready."

Damn it, she had to help him put clothes, again.

She hated when she was the one who had to help him getting ready. He hated it too. Terribly awkward. Awkward silence. Weird atmosphere. _Awkward._ And it was awkward again, because it was one of those times and Lydia had to convince herself it was completely normal.

She liked the dark red flannel shirt the most. She loved red. So she chose that and some basic t-shirt. And pants of course, Jesus Christ, logic.

Stiles rolled his eyes and Lydia saw it and rolled hers as well, waiting for him to cooperate, which he was terrible at. He reluctantly lifted his hands and she took the grey shirt off, revealing his chest. Lydia looked away for a moment, because well, fuck, it was inappropriate in a way. She bit her lip as she looked at him again, and his shirtless chest for that matter. Lydia had a deep part in her, that would allow her to have thoughts she'd never accept. And Lydia's deep part was telling her, that what her blood felt, was want. Because news fucking flash. Stiles was hot. 

Aaand who cares about her deep part, it just made things up sometimes.

She wanted to get the shirt she picked but it was nowhere to be seen and Lydia was sure she was completely losing it when she couldn't find it, even after being sure she put it on the bed. Or maybe Stiles' body had shaken her and she- Jesus.

"Red head, the shirt." Stiles groaned, handing her the thing she was looking for and Lydia didn't even remember giving it to him.

"Right. Sorry," maybe he was right. She really did need to sort out her priorities. Suddenly, she remembered Kira. Oh God, Kira would freak out if Lydia told her she accidentally hugged Stiles. Kira would cry if Lydia told her she slept on the same bed as S-

Kira would probably explode or something.

Lydia missed Kira. She didn't hear her voice three days already, probably because Kira was busy with Malia. Lydia would envy that. Sometimes. She wasn't big on relationships and she was sure she didn't want one, but the relationship of Kira and Malia was the cutest damn thing Lydia witnessed. Kira was dorky and awkward and Malia was the I-smile-just-for-one-certain-person kind of girl and the certain person was Kira. She could say Malia and Stiles were kind of similar in some ways, but Malia had a soul and Stiles did not.

After Stiles had to wait twenty minutes for Lydia to fix her hair and get ready, she helped him down the stairs and made a list of what they needed. He had his annoying grumpy expression and Lydia was convinced that was the only face Stiles would make around her ever again. He was pretty servile lately, and it was satisfying for Lydia to have him finally listen to her, but then again she didn't want to hope too much. If she did, it'd end and she'd be let down.

They had an argument over a chocolate bar in the supermarket and Stiles was testing which bananas should they buy. He was so annoying, Lydia almost lost her temper.

"I don't want Reese's!" He said.

"That's because you've never tried it!" Lydia argued back.

"That's because it sucks!" Stiles whisper shouted.

This is why Lydia always had a Reese's chocolate bar with her. She got it out and felt kinda bad she had a bite of it earlier, but she stuffed it into his mouth just like that.

"Hey, they're actually good." He licked his upper lip.

_Jerk._

"These." Stiles handed her the bananas from his left hand.

"Oka-"

"No, wait. I think these are better." He lifted the ones in his right hand up.

Lydia sighed in annoyance. "Good-"

"Wait-"

"Stiles!"

Lydia took random ones and made him put his choices down and he puckered his mouth like he always did and Lydia decided she'd never go grocery shopping with him again.

"Do you think he'll do it?" said Stiles when they were at the fridge section and Lydia knew she'd only get fruit yoghurts.

"What?"

"My dad. Do you think he'll propose?"

That was a yes. Noah wasn't very subtle. It made her wonder if Stiles got his insincerity from his mom. His real mom. He never really mentioned her... "Obviously."

"They really love each other." Lydia said after some minutes of silence.

He coughed. "You don't even wanna know."

Then, Lydia didn't really think about her words, or about anything. It just slipped. "You'd be blind not to see it."

Stiles blinked.

Once, she's realised what she said, Lydia stuttered a lot of 'Sorrys', and covered her mouth but she was confused when she didn't hear his voice throwing rude, offended comments. Instead, Stiles was laughing. Really fucking laughing.

Shit, she liked his laugh. She thought it wasn't like his other laugh, that one that sounded fake and the only one she heard. It was so... genuine. Stiles never laughed. Well, really laughed, and he certainly never laughed because of her. Lydia never thought something Stiles did would make her smile in any way. But she had to smile.

—

Lydia stared at the night sky and its stars out of Stiles' window. Somewhere, her dad was staring at the same stars.

When Lydia was twelve, she liked to spend time with her grandma. Her grandma always said peculiar things, things Lydia's small brain never really understood. But she'd smile, because she loved her grandma. She got twenty dollars each Christmas. Once, her grandma said that no matter where you go, stars stay the same. They're at the same place as they were the night before, years before. They have the same glow and they have the same shape. And, no matter if you're staring at them miles from home, it'll still feel like you're home, because stars don't ever change. People do.

"Do you wanna go for a wa-"

"No," Stiles refused before even hearing her out. He never gave it a chance. He didn't even try. He didn't even let her finish. That didn't make her give up, though, just kind of sad.

"Come on, a walk in the night is so refreshing. You're gonna like it."

If he gave it a chance, he'd like it. He'd love it actually. And Lydia knew he would, it wasn't like he often went out in night or was it? Lydia would give up on some things, fast. But Stiles made her not. You can't know if you don't try.

"I don't want to."

_You never do._

"Stiles, please."

For a second, he lingered and Lydia's hopes completely went down, but he agreed after all. "... Fine."

The mansion was practically isolated from the whole Beacon Hills and Lydia liked it. It was like they had the endless road just for themselves. No cars, no sounds, no anything. Sometimes to Lydia, California would be anything other than home. Beacon Hills would feel like a stranger and its roads like mysteries. But only sometimes. And sometimes Lydia just felt like she didn't belong. Don't we all?

She had no one to blame, so she blamed her father.. If he didn't leave, California would feel like home.

The light of the stars made Stiles' face shine in shades of blue and for a moment, Lydia's heart liked it.

Lydia knew she had a connection with Stiles. The moonlight made it visible by throwing flickers between their shoulders. It wasn't like it was strong, in fact, it wasn't even close to strong. Denying it lasted for some days, and accepting it took her awhile, but there's always some kind of connection, even with those who we hate. She just wondered if he could feel it too. Maybe at a touch or a word, it didn't matter. Just a little wave of the big ocean. Just a little spark of the moonlight.

—

**Day four**

"I told her I'd meet her here!"   
It was 9:30 am and Stiles has been complaining since 8 that he didn't want to leave the house, because Miss Tate was supposed to come around 11 am for a meeting. But Lydia, stubborn as she was, figured it as a chance to _get out_ of the damn house.

"Stiles. Fresh air that's not your garden's air. Good thing. I'll dial her number and you move the appointment. Easy." She went to search for his phone, or whatever, because she wasn't sure if Stiles even had a phone.

"God, you're so damn bossy. And there's nothing wrong with my garden's air!" Stiles crossed his arms and sat on the bed, while Lydia found the phone and searched for Malia's contact, if it even was there.

Lydia didn't have the chance to talk to Malia about that day she saw her going to the Stilinskis. In all honesty, she didn't want to either. She still wasn't entirely calm about the whole death thing... And she sometimes thought about asking him, but she didn't want to invade his privacy. Lydia hated death. No one deserves it.

She figured Malia was there purely because of work. Lydia wondered what kind.

She drove to the 'Wolfie heaven', and was more than glad she made Stiles go again. He secretly liked going out of the house and he secretly liked the hot chocolate too, she was sure, he just didn't want to admit because he was Stiles. Also, she couldn't wait to see him sophisticated and mature, because this was a serious meeting and he was replacing his dad. Sophisticated Stiles. Lydia wanted to jump from excitement.

Lydia had helped Stiles sit and this time, they chose a table outside, the cool air of October being the perfect company, and just as she was about to sit, Malia's dirty blonde hair caught her sight.

"Malia." Lydia grinned and went in for a hug and Malia hugged her back, confused.

"Lydia?"

"Stiles." Stiles dryly spoke.

Both Lydia and Malia gave him a confused look. "You- You said your own name," Lydia furrowed her eyebrows.

"There were no other names to say!"

So, sophisticated Stiles apparently didn't exist. Of course. It wouldn't have made Lydia smile few weeks ago, but now she couldn't really not. So she smiled.

"He makes me question humanity," Malia shook her head, whispering.

Lydia drank her coffee as Stiles and Malia discussed something about partnership and someone named 'Derek Hale' and she was utterly bored, so she decided not to listen anymore, because sophisticated Stiles was just like normal Stiles. His voice was just more serious (and Lydia had to admit she liked his serious tone). She'd glance over at him every now and then, just to see if he's all right and his three moles below his ear would always catch her attention. And Lydia realised she never really noticed Stiles' moles. And when she did, she didn't want to approve of her small smile, so she covered it and decided to listen to boring things Stiles and Malia were saying.

—

Stiles complained she brushed his chin with a napkin in front of Malia, but Lydia kept defending herself she had to, because as if having hot chocolate smudge on his chin in from of his job partner is anything better.

And yes, Lydia could clearly see Malia smirking at her as she blew her a kiss before leaving and wow, was Kira influencing her badly. Kira wouldn't get away with any of it though, not calling her and turning Malia into some teasing woman. That was Kira, she always left an impact on people.

Lydia made them macaroni with cheese for dinner and surprisingly, Stiles had no remarks for this one. He was even proud of her, because she made something without burning the house down. He said, "You're finally making your presence necessary, red head," and Lydia rolled her eyes, but smiled. He asked her about Malia too and Lydia just said they were friends and that was it.

She put on her pyjamas and hoped she would block out the depths of her brain and their mindless thoughts when she had to help Stiles again, because last time was a disaster.

Astonishingly, it felt normal. Not awkward or weird or anything. It just felt completely alright and Lydia felt comfortable. That was scary. She didn't even want to give it a second thought.

Again, she backed away as much as she could and tried to sleep, but she couldn't, somehow. She was sure she had been staring at the night outside the balcony for hours in the company of silence, and then Stiles changed that.

"Are you asleep...?", Lydia heard Stiles quietly ask, " _Lydia?_ "

She didn't answer, even though she was wide awake. Something in her told her not to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered through the darkness.

So, he did know what an apology is. He was sorry. But that real sorry, not the one that meant dust, but the one that was as real as the dark night around them and for a moment, Lydia wouldn't have believed it. He was sorry. 

Lydia closed her eyes, a flashback of starlight on his face crossing her mind.

—

Scott came early in the morning and Lydia was in the bathroom and when she got out, he saw her in her old trousers and her 'Cinderella' t-shirt and she screamed because he unintentionally scared her, but it was okay, he was Scott.

Her scream woke Stiles up and she was sure he'd hate her that day, because who even likes being woken up? Then again, when didn't he hate her...

The hell of four days with Stiles was over (it wasn't that bad), because Melissa and Noah could be back any moment and Lydia could leave whenever she wanted, because there was Scott. She was on her way out when Melissa barged in, all cheerful and pretty as always.

"He proposed!" Melissa enthusiastically screamed and showed them the diamond on her ring and it was the most beautiful thing Lydia saw. She wanted to have her own one day, but she never planned on marrying anyone. She just wanted to have a real diamond ring, something she could admire at all times, something that made her feel important.

Lydia hugged Melissa after Scott and Stiles did and the moment Noah entered, the two jumped on him and Melissa joined them, so it was a group hug. A family hug. They laughed, because there was almost no space left anymore and because they were simply happy and even Stiles wore his brightest smile, the one Lydia never had the chance to see. She just stood aside and smiled, because the happy she was seeing was beautiful and soft and you could never get tired of seeing it.

Lydia blamed herself after her father left. He left this. He left the happy. He left cordial family hugs and he left the light Lydia's eyes would look at him with. He left. And she let him.

Stiles, as coarse and as cold as he was, had the one most important thing she didn't.

A family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Before you yell at me, I really gave my best, I was so busy with life I'm sorry. I hope it payed off, it's 7k words.
> 
> \- I know this might not be the best time to post anything due to recent events in the world, but I remembered some of your comments and I was hoping to brighten up your mood. I love you all. Stay safe.
> 
> \- As always, you can feedback me and tell me if I should fix my style etc.
> 
> \- Thank you for reading, voting, commenting. It means so so much. Ily all sm. Ty for your patience.
> 
> See ya next time,  
> MARIA


	8. Chapter 8

Sometimes, Lydia would ask herself when did people go wrong.

When did the world become so… nefarious? Why doesn't anything feel like home anymore, not even the place she grew up in. Why is everywhere, anywhere and nowhere so dangerous? People are terrible and Lydia knew how the world works. People are void. And Lydia; she had enough cases to see how awful people can be. How can human life be so worthless to someone who takes it…? How can a life be so worthless to take it in the first place? No one’s life is worthless.

When did people go wrong? That was something not even the super-smart-mathematical-genius-science-nerd Lydia Martin could give an answer to. But maybe the truth is that people have been going wrong every day. It was like an eternal process of wronging; it just never stops, because they go wrong every day.

Love. Lydia didn't even want to think of it. Where was it? Because the world sure got her wondering. It just didn't exist for Lydia. Anymore, at least…

Lydia's midnight thoughts. Thoughts that she didn't want, but thoughts that night would give her. Maybe thoughts from sunset and maybe thoughts from a person at the other side of the world. Thoughts that sometimes everyone has. Perhaps even  _should_ have. It wasn't easy to sleep, for Lydia, lately. She just couldn't. The colours of the night kept the little fraction of the fear away, and Lydia wondered why was she so scared lately. She couldn't close her eyes, without opening them not even a second later.

She just thought and thought and thought again.

Eventually, the beauty of the moon she could admire through her window would sing to her and then, Lydia's thoughts would be replaced by a melody of the moonlight. And she'd sleep, just a little.

And in the morning, Kira would call her and wish her a good morning and maybe make a joke or two. And Lydia’s morning would be like cinnamon then, sweet and good.

Kira had straight black hair and one time, Lydia was playing with it and added glitter to it. It looked like night. Another time, when Kira dyed her hair in a lighter shade of blue, they helped Lydia’s mom make cake for Lydia’s birthday. Lydia threw flour on Kira’s hair and it looked like afternoon sky in winter. If there was love in this world, it was a person and it was Kira. Kira was loved and she loved.

All of her life, Lydia wasn't fond of herself. She tried to cover it and she tried to like who she was, but with some people it just… doesn't work like that. She couldn’t start loving herself by pretending she loves herself (even if she’d seen it works for most people). Nothing was enough, not when she despised every fraction of herself.

Maybe she had life every teenager wished to have, because her mom let her do whatever she wanted. Lydia realised it wasn’t like that. Her mom just didn’t care, that’s all, she never cared nor she understood her own daughter. Lydia would stay out the whole night just to get her mom’s attention, and just to feel what it’s like when someone cares where she is. Lydia still remembers when she asked Natalie if it was her fault that dad left and what did Natalie say?  _“It’s all your fault!”_

So, how could Lydia ever love herself after that? She blamed herself too much to feel affection for who she was. And when she grew up, it just didn’t matter anymore. Lydia knew she was beautiful and intelligent, and a lot of people would want to date her but, that meant nothing to her for Lydia would never love the person she was. She just wasn't enough.

The night was quiet, so were her thoughts.

That morning, Kira didn’t call and Lydia acknowledged how empty it felt without Kira’s voice in the morning. She was most likely sleeping.

Lydia had a day off, but no plans other than reading about anthropology(she thought it was fascinating) and watching TV(Mulan). She checked her bank account and was happy to see she almost completed the amount of money needed for her old office(life). Yay to that, but Lydia hated being an adult. There’s just too much responsibility  _and_  banking  _and_ paying bills _and_ unexpected events  _and_ much  _more_  stress and… Deleting E-Mails. Lots of deleting E-Mails. Appointments. A lot of that too. Having a dog and giving it the most love. (This is one of the good points!) Waiting to go home from work on Friday and the last hour always passing by like it’s a fucking turtle. Getting drunk on a Friday night, alone. Watching romantic comedies(for the first time) and already knowing what is going to happen. Doing that thing where you buy the whole cake without having to bake or anything, just eat. Years of education, but it can happen that you don’t know which year, day or month is it. Dirty humour, you’re cool. Massive vocabulary. And, Lydia’s favourite: Canceling plans.

Strange, because making plans was Lydia’s favourite hobby in her teenage years.

Her phone rang. “Hello?”

“ _Lydia, sweetie, I know it’s your day off but can you come here quickly?”_ said Melissa’s voice on the other line, “  _– Because I’m such a three year old and can’t take care of myself!!”_ Lydia could hear Stiles yelling in the back and she rolled her eyes.

Well she had no choice. “Yeah, I'll be there.”

And she was there later than it would take her to arrive, even though she hurried. (Adulthood: Waking up three hours early, but still managing to be late.)

“Oh honey, thank God you're here. See, I was gonna help Stiles bathing, but they called for emergency in the hospital.” Melissa gave her one last smile, while taking her bag.

“It's all okay Melissa. I'll see you..”  _Please don't go._

Melissa was gone and Lydia stood quietly for a moment, until she heard his voice. (Adulthood: Realising people are more annoying than you thought.)

“Hey redhead, you there?” Stiles called from the bathroom.

Yes, she was there and she looked like a mess, because she couldn’t properly choose what to wear as she had to hurry to work. But it was her fault for being so lazy the whole day and wishing she was a kid again. It happens to everyone, right?

“Why so grumpy?” Stiles asked shortly after Lydia arrived at the bathroom door.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Lydia said. (Adulthood: Higher intelligence.)

“Of course I can. I drink and I know things.” Stiles appeared to be in one of his good moods. And as he said what he said, Lydia found she had something in common with him. (Adulthood: Whiskey, beer and red wine.)

Stiles’ bathroom was huge and white. Like everything else in his house, but, it was whiter, and soothing in a way. She never really had time to explore it. It was so bright. Lydia’s never seen anything so bright in her life. In fact, she did, but it was gone. After moments of observing Stiles’ bathroom longer than intended, Lydia realised she was in the bathroom. Bathroom. And she’s just also realised Stiles was naked. She wouldn’t say anything about it.

“So, what am I supposed to do now?” Lydia never helped anyone with bathing. Of course, she always thought about how she would most likely have to help her mom when her mom is old. But her mom was not that old yet. And Lydia has never had a lot of experience with babies. Weird how she always thought babies and old people needed the most help.

“Massage my back,” Stiles didn’t do it, but Lydia could see his inner smirk.

“Funny,” she said instantly, her tone sarcastic.

“Did you know, massage is one of the things that can measure up to sex.” Stiles stated and his statement meant nothing to her, as it would not persuade Lydia to do it. It just reminded her brain of an (maybe not  _that much)_ unnecessary thing: Sex. She hasn’t had it for awhile.

“You’re thinking about sex right now, aren’t you?” he asked before she could keep thinking about sex.

“Shut up.”

Lydia got on her knees and pulled her sleeves up. She gripped Stiles’ shoulders and proceeded to dug her fingers into his skin as she kept tightly circling with her thumbs and felt his bones underneath them. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

“Oh, that’s so good,” Stiles would say once in awhile and he’d make those sounds that reminded her brain of that thing…

It started becoming … It’s better not to say. “Why do you hate strawberry ice cream?”

“What?” Stiles opened his eyes from a trance and Lydia was surprised of her massage skills.

“Why do you hate strawberry ice cream?” she repeated.

“Why would I- Oh. Why does that interest you?”

She groaned. “I’m trying to mend bridges here.”

“For a moment there, I thought you really cared.”

Lydia herself didn’t know if she cared. She just said it to- It was probably the best to pretend she didn’t know why she said it.

“I just remembered something.” Stiles yawned. “I’m naked.”

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Like, completely.”

“If you're thinking I might have seen your… little thing, I haven't.” she hasn’t. Everything down there was under million white, tiny bubbles; invisible. And it was better that way.

“This was a terrible idea,” Stiles said. “Let me just use sarcasm to cover up that fact,” he added.

“Before you start screaming like a little girl, I won’t look, geez.”

“Stiles Stilinski: Died in a bathtub.”

“We've all seen a penis, I really don't care.” (Adulthood: Being able to approach indifferently to awkward situations.)

Stiles was quiet.

“What?” Lydia irritatingly asked.

“I haven't, in fact, actually seen one.”

 _Right_. Lydia looked around, trying to think of something. “But you touched it! Awesome right?”

Completely nonchalantly, Stiles just said: “Alright,” and then he stood up.

He placed his hands on his hips while water was dropping from his body and falling into the tub and Lydia needed a moment.

His butt looked nice. But the foam covered the-  _Lydia stop._

Adulthood: Hormones.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, Lydia didn’t feel uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. (She didn’t see _it_. She gave him a towel and her eyes were closed and he covered it. It did not matter, anyway.) She helped Stiles get into bed and he instantly fell asleep for some reason, despite it being early in the night. She sat by his bed, reading about anthropology. It was a bit hard to concentrate, especially because he was lightly snoring and she noticed he drooled.

“You drool when you sleep,” she said the moment he was starting to open his eyes.

Stiles silently groaned. “You irritate when you talk,” his voice cracked.

Lydia‘s phone beeped and she checked what it was. It was a message from Melissa, it was cute. “Melissa just texted to see if you’re okay. She’s such a caring mom.”

“Melissa isn’t my biological mom.” Stiles sat up.

“I know,” she should let it go, just talk about something else. “So, your mom, what was she like?” But she felt like it was a worth a try.  _And_ , she might have even cared about this.

“Nice subtleness.”

Lydia got it. It was a topic that was avoided. She shouldn’t have felt like it was worth mentioning. She wouldn’t ask about it again. She was about to apologise, but she noticed something else. She quickly put her hand over his forehead. He flinched.

“Stiles, you’re really hot.”

He hesitated, then said: “Thank you. I’m aware.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, her hand still touching his face. “I meant literally, you have fever.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. “So, you don’t think I’m hot?”

She stood up. “Not this again…”

“You do,” he let himself smile.

“I would never think that!” Lydia deadpanned.

“That’d offend me but, if only I had a heart,” for mocking purposes, Stiles put a hand over his chest.

“Are you more annoying when you're sick?”

“I'm not sick,” he denied.

“Your temperature’s rising. You are sweating and you're really pale, your hands are shaky too,” Lydia made a point. (Adulthood: Being right in most situations.)

“I’m sick,” Stiles’ tone fully changed in an instant. “Can you find my Luke Skywalker shirt? It's my lucky shirt.”

“I don't know-”

“Oh God, I think I'm gonna vomit,” he groaned, not letting her finish.

“I'll get you the shirt.”  _Even if I have no idea what does Luke look like. Neither do you. Points for everyone!_

Lydia got him the shirt. And she helped him put it on too, And he was whining the whole time about how his back hurt despite her amazing massage. And about how he was cold and tired and he kept complaining about his bed and how uncomfortable it was. Lydia concluded sick Stiles and every day Stiles were alike in many aspects and she was not happy about the fact.

She was about to get pills to help him sleep, but he stopped her.

“Red head,” he called.

She stopped at the door and turned around. “What? Afraid I was gonna leave without a goodbye kiss?”

“What?”

In this moment, Lydia realised her jokes were not good and that she probably shouldn’t do it ever again. “It’s a joke.” Lydia sighed. It's not like she would ever-

“So, you’ve seen ‘Star Wars’?” It seemed as though Stiles changed the topic.

“No?” It was a question.

“And here I was, thought you were becoming cool.” At first she didn’t get it.

“Screw you.”

But then she got it. “Oh, I get it! I referenced Star Wars without knowing it.”

Stiles started clapping, and then abruptly stopped. “You need to watch it. I rewatched Episode 1 yesterday.” There was a pause. “Reheard.”

Lydia said nothing, because there really was nothing she could say to that.

“You could watch it with me. If you want.”

That was unexpected. Stiles said something nice, in his very normal every day Stiles voice. It would be an underestimation to say Lydia was just entertained. This didn’t happen often.  
(Adulthood: Unpredictable acts from people you were sure you’d never get along.)

She didn’t know how to answer it. “I’ll go get sleeping pills. So the fever doesn't prevent you from sleep.”

While going downstairs, Lydia gave it a brief second thought that having a movie marathon with Stiles could be fun but brushed it off right away.

Stiles hated taking medicine. He always needed longer than necessary to actually put the pill in his mouth and swallow it. It was a process. He’d hold the pill and just wait for whatever the something he was waiting for and then he’d reluctantly take it, but only if someone reminded him he had to.

“Tell me a story,” he quietly spoke as she was about to get up.

Lydia chuckled and stayed, but didn't quite know what he meant by that. However, something popped into her mind. “Hmm, well. When I was little, I used to pretend to fall asleep in the living room on the couch, so my dad could carry me to my room like a bride.”

Stiles’ laugh was dry due to his condition, but it was still his real laugh. The one Lydia encountered only once a month. Maybe not even that often. He ought not to laugh around her a lot. She knew why, too. She ought not to laugh around him as well.

“Yeah laugh. I'm sure you planned out your wedding day as well,” Lydia hid a giggle.

“I don't think I'll marry anyone,” said Stiles.

“Why not?”

He raised his eyebrows and pouted his lips.

Lydia was thinking of what to say. Love was not something she offered a lot of thought. It wasn’t a priority or a want. But she couldn’t say that. “Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“There's a person out there for everyone.” Lydia didn’t believe it. Love was just one of the many things the world had done wrong. In a way, she felt like Stiles knew it too. In a way, she hoped her words made him believe otherwise.

“I wouldn't be surprised if you make your dad still do it.”

She shouldn’t say it. It shouldn’t even cross her mind. She shouldn’t even be considering telling personal things to Stiles. “No, actually. He left.” So why did she?

The silence that followed was surprisingly what Lydia needed at the moment. She was so used to people pitying her her whole life because of that fact. He said nothing and nothing was right.

“Alright big kid, you need to rest,” Lydia said attempting to loosen the atmosphere.

Stiles’ hand covered Lydia’s as she tucked him in and his raspy voice whispered, “Thanks, Lyds.”

All Lydia could do is stop. Stop thinking, stop moving, stop breathing, just stop. It was brief, but her heart kind of stopped too. At least she thought it did. She looked at Stiles.  _Lyds_ , huh. He’s just called her ‘Lyds’(and it was very heartwarming, however she couldn't admit that). A lot of people called her  _Lyds_. It shouldn’t have been anything new for her. But somehow, it was. She wished her heart didn't soften in awe. Her lips curved a little and she stared and stared and stared. And she noticed, Stiles didn't have glitter in his hair, but it looked like night. So she stared longer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Hello, you can hate me all you want here.
> 
> -No, but forreal, I deserve every single bad comment ever. Bring it on. I haven't updated in months.
> 
> -I am so incredibly, deeply sorry. I probably disappointed you and most of you gave up on me and this story, but it's been so hard. I had the worst writer's block of my life. Literally.
> 
> -Sorry for this shitshow of a terrible chapter. My comeback was supposed to be better but lol, I needed to give u something
> 
> -Til next time(and it hopefully isn't in five months)
> 
> Maria


	9. Chapter 9

_ There’s no such thing as forever _ . There is an almost, maybe and if only. And they had all occured to Lydia Martin. But ‘forever’ did not. Which is why, Lydia Martin knew there’s no such thing as forever. Not for her, not for the people who thought they had it. Even people close to her. Those people might have just, almost, maybe, (and if only they have) changed her mind. They  _ were  _ in the process of _ changing _ her mind. When this happened:

“So yeah. I know you’re busy, but please call me tonight. I actually want to do something. Love you,” it should be noted that Lydia did not like going out like she used to.

So why exactly did she leave three messages to Kira, who obviously said she was busy, within half an hour? Lydia did not know. There was just this strange urge that appeared out of nowhere and Lydia realised she was in her twenties and she wouldn’t be in her twenties _ forever _ . (She desperately needed a hook up, too, but she ought to ignore that fact.) 

Kira was acting all kinds of strange that day. She didn’t call and she barely answered any of Lydia’s four million texts. She only answered one and she answered with two words: I’m busy.

Lydia believed none of that. She knew when her best friend was lying; all people tend to do so when it comes to their best friend. She wouldn’t say anything about it, at least not until the next day.  _ Maybe _ Kira just needed some alone time and  _ maybe _ Lydia was way too annoying, but when she wanted something, she didn’t give up that easily. Kira knew this and often responded to it, but when she didn’t, then it was serious. Lydia didn’t believe in hope like she used to, but she hoped her moonlight kissed princess was okay. And then this happened:

Lydia was sleeping. Nicely, minding her own business, deeply and very comfortably sleeping. And she would not have woken up if she had not heard suspicious sounds and  _ almost _ cracking noises from the hallway. Lydia was a light sleeper. Even the most quiet breath a person could possibly exhale would wake her up. It was a disadvantage, mostly. Not now. Someone was breaking into her house. She didn’t panic. She never really panicked oftentimes. That was a good thing, she told herself. Now it was a good thing. Quietly, as quiet as she could, she let her bed covers lay as she slowly stood on her toes while getting out of bed. She proceeded with quiet tempo and steady, she took a baseball bat near her window(why she possessed one was a question for another night). 

Her room was the colour of ebony, only a glimpse of light coming through from the hallway and fading moon light outside the window. She was careful enough not to trip on anything. The beat of her heart was in her throat, she could very well hear the person’s footsteps in her hallway upstairs. Just a few steps away from her. Soon enough, the person – potentially violent – was about to enter Lydia’s room. 

Lydia swung her bat and nearly knocked them down as they entered the room.

“Oh my-  _ FUCK _ !” Lydia screamed as the light went on and she saw the familiar dirty blonde hair.

“What are you doing here?! It’s 2 am!” she proceeded with speaking in an undertone now and hoped she didn’t wake Natalie.

“I’m sorry. I used the spare key I forgot to give back to Kira. I don’t want to sleep in the creepy hotel,” Malia was sad. Lydia almost instantly noticed it. Malia hadn’t looked at her, she rather observed the floor and avoided any eye contact. And Lydia’s known her long enough to know when she’s sad and when not.

“You usually sleep at Kira’s.” 

“I can’t-” she paused, “sleep at Kira’s tonight.” That didn’t sound good. Her moonlight kissed princess was not okay. And Lydia’s never seen Malia so vacant  like she was that night. Lydia knew she was perceptive and Lydia knew most people in her life all too well. She’d question it; think she should meet new people and expand her comfort zone, but then again if she did, it wouldn’t be so comfortable like it was now. And Lydia was happy with her life, she didn’t crave for an epic adventure or a stupendous luxury. 

“Oh why? Did you two have that kinda fight where you argued over something silly?” she smiled whilst sitting down on her bed and Malia followed to sit down too. 

Malia was still avoiding Lydia’s gaze and Lydia was beginning to get scared for her friend, everything indicating  to an apparent concerning occurrence. 

“She asked me to marry her and I said no.” Malia said, her eyes empty and her mind appearing to be completely absent as of that moment.

_ That  _ kinda fight. 

“Shit,” Lydia whispered, her lips parting. What could she even say now? She wasn’t even good at consolting people…  Malia said nothing anymore and didn’t need to say anything for Lydia to hug her tightly. Malia didn’t hug back  (Lydia didn’t mind), she was sat frozen and Lydia kept muttering many I’m sorry’s and It’s okay’s. 

There just weren’t any other words she could speak out, except mathematical theories and equations but that surely wasn’t what Malia needed and wanted. It made Lydia feel so useless, she really needed to read advice on giving people consolation. All her brain did in these situations was math(and sometimes she’d secretly recreate an episode of whatever the show on Investigation Discovery and imagine that she was assigned to solve the case), because this was her brain’s way of processing, and now it was processing the current situation in the same way and Lydia wasn’t in the need of it. 

Little bit later, the two made themselves a lot more comfortable by moving higher to the pillows and under the covers. Malia hasn’t spoken a word since Lydia’s constant mutters and hug. Lydia sat and caressed Malia’s head, which was in her lap and Malia, who was tucked in, was deep in thought, Lydia supposed. Lydia’s hand moved slower and slower in Malia’s hair and Lydia’s eyes were leisurely closing.

“You can’t sleep here,” she whispered, half asleep. 

“What, why not?!” Malia swiftly sat up and frowned. 

“I don’t want to have to choose a side,” Lydia said through yawning. It was as if she spoke in slow motion and it just reinforced her tired state. To sum it up, Lydia wasn’t sure if she knew what she was saying. 

Malia burst into tears and it was like Lydia instantly woke up and a switch was turned that made her eyes open widely. “Oh no, Malia, don’t cry.”

The dirty blonde buried her face in her hands and leaned on, so that she fell in Lydia’s lap again. 

“I  _ never _ get emotional,” Malia never got emotional. She didn’t get emotional in high school, not even when she lost a friend. She didn’t get emotional during graduation, perhaps not even considered her success. She didn’t get emotional watching tragedies and reading them, not even a single time. Malia never got emotional, that it was alarming seeing her so. 

“I know, love,” Lydia knew more than she wanted to. She could feel her eyes turning wet too. 

“She hates me,” Malia cried.

“She doesn’t,” Lydia softly came back to caressing Malia’s head, her fingers tracing the hairline and playing with a strand of hair.

“I’m not there yet,” Malia’s voice was so fragile, Lydia couldn’t make out if there was a time in the past she’s ever heard it that way before. 

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she let out none.

* * *

 

The next morning was frosty and it already felt like the middle of winter.  Lydia opened her eyes in pain, she didn’t sleep well. Malia was snoring in her lap, still, while Lydia was sitting, her head tilted and her fingers still in Malia’s dirty blonde waves. The strawberry blonde rubbed her eyes and yawned, then glanced at Malia again flashing black to the night before. Poor thing cried herself to sleep. Lydia needed to try and fix that today. It wasn’t hers to fix but if it could  _ maybe  _ make her friends feel better, then she was on it. And it should be known, Lydia was a very persistent person. She wasn’t conciliatory oftentimes and she wouldn’t be because well, Malia had a breakdown in front of her and you don’t see that every day. But then again, this was Kira she had to talk to. The two have known each other since they both still played with Barbie dolls and dreamed of being real princesses.

Kira’s house was the colour of peach, wide and modern heaven. It had one floor and in front, a beige, bricked area with stairs that led to the front door and within the area, there was one growing tree surrounded by small stones, dry grass and even few flowers here and there, which were already dying out due to the weather of autumn. She still lived with her parents, as did Lydia with her mom, because just like Lydia, she obtained a fear when thinking about leaving everything behind. At least that was what Lydia thought, even though the strawberry blonde herself had hard time conceding that fact. (Maybe Lydia just didn’t want to accept that she was scared.)

Lydia greeted Mr and Mrs Yukimura and then imperceptibly sneaked to Kira’s room. Kira heard her nonetheless and as soon as Lydia entered, she covered herself with blankets over her head. Lydia jumped on the bed and Kira let out a groan. 

“Ow,” they both sat up, Kira aversely revealing her swollen face. Lydia very well knew she hasn’t ever seen Kira  _ that _ messy. This downright hit her.

They talked for so long, they talked about how Kira was planning how to do it for months – and told Lydia nothing, about which Lydia was rightfully mad – and they talked about how Kira felt in that moment, how she legitimately got down on one knee just for Lia and just like she’s told Lydia she’d do, all those years ago when the two of them planned their wedding days. “I would get on one knee just for Malia,” she said, she  _ promised _ and when Lydia mentioned it that day, they laughed. They laughed when Kira described in detail how shocked Malia was, they laughed even though they knew it wasn’t funny; not for Kira or Malia. But they laughed anyway, because Kira reminded her of their childhood play of wedding and how to this day, she was still angry about always having to be the groom. And when they finalized their happiness over silly childhood dreams and fairytales, Lydia could see Kira hadn’t ventured to break down, so she softly said that it was okay and that if necessary, she would cry too(because crying with someone wasn’t as agonising as crying alone). 

“She’s not ready for that big step,” later, Lydia gave her best to help Kira understand(although she presumed Kira was compassionate enough to do so), because Lydia understood. She hoped  _ it _ wouldn’t cross Kira’s mind.

“I believe you,” Kira met her eyes and gave her that smile that only Kira could make do. It was an assuring smile and a smile Lydia’s been given countless times, but none of those times mattered anymore, because no matter how many smiles of assurance Lydia had seen, none were like Kira’s. 

And it wasn’t good. Lydia was scared. Kira would mention  _ it _ and Lydia didn’t want her to, but she couldn’t say. She could never say. Kira would mention it and Lydia would remember, again. It would happen in her head, again. It would be fast and it would be brief, but it would happen and she would remember and she wanted to forget. And Kira couldn’t have known and Lydia wouldn’t ever say it out loud. Kira would mention it and Lydia would bury it deep, so that even her eyes lie.  

“How long has it been? Five years?” Kira mentioned it. 

There was an event that happened in Lydia’s life that would pretty much always haunt her. She didn’t like to talk about it, she didn’t like to mention it because the guilt of it still kept her awake at night. It was selfish, yes, and selfish was the only way Lydia knew in how to mend, even though it was clear that it was something that would forever be  _ there _ . 

“ _ Almost _ ,” it had not been five years.

She wanted to finally put it behind her, but couldn’t and it would accidentally occur to her, that she remembers, in spite of very strong opposition. Lydia flashed back to those moments; little things and big things, both mattered equally to her. Both were as equally important. Lydia had a wide eyed gaze and she liked to think it was the reason she’d sometimes see into things deeper than they actually go. She wished she did so almost five years ago too. Yet all her wide eyed gaze was blinded with was sweet disposition and a little bit of unsteadiness, autumn leaves and red lights.

And Lydia almost made it. She maybe had that chance. If only things didn’t end the way they did. 

_ There’s no such thing as forever. _ There is just the End of chapter _. _

* * *

 

When Lydia arrived at the Stilinski household the next day, she was sure she wasn’t in the best mood and she was sure her bad mood would likely cause Stiles to have a bad mood as well. That is, if he already wasn’t in an irritable state of mind. 

They taunted each other now and then – a typical Lydia and Stiles thing to do – and Lydia would lie if she said it didn’t make her whole home-friends-family sitiation a bit better. Lydia found few olden letters in one of his drawers by chance, and asked him about it and he said they were from his old love or whatever. How romantic!  _ Not _ . But she was a little glad he didn’t decline to answer something personal for once.

“My father, as a businessman, was invited to some stupid martini party where there’s a lot of rich people,” began Stiles.

“What do I have to do with it?” Oh no, Lydia’s bad mood was showing.

Stiles obviously noticed because he sighed in irritation. “He can’t make it and neither can Scott, and Melissa despises those things, but my dad needs someone to be there to keep the reputation we have.”

Luxury was a fine thing. Lydia tried not to judge those obsessed with it. She didn’t judge Mr Stilinski for taking care of his reputation and focusing on what other people thought. But she had a pretty strong opinion herself. Then again, her opinions mostly got her in trouble. (Presumably because they were  _ facts  _ no one wanted to admit to being true.) 

Stiles sighed in irritation.  “I’m blind y’know. Can’t see. Stuff like that,” he licked his lips, and if Lydia didn’t know him, she wouldn’t have been able to say he was uneasy.  “I was wondering if you would want to come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I tried and put my soul into it. My inspiration is just not there. And idk if anyone still likes this story or my writing.   
> -Till next time,  
> Maria

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I've decided to post this fanfic here too, as it's on my wattpad :)) I hope the new readers will like it. Thank you for reading!


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